


Taking This One Step At A Time

by amethystkrystal, NurseDarry



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Knotting, M/M, Mpreg, Nesting, Omega Bucky Barnes, Shrunkyclunks, Strangers to Lovers, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-03-17 22:26:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18973780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amethystkrystal/pseuds/amethystkrystal, https://archiveofourown.org/users/NurseDarry/pseuds/NurseDarry
Summary: Steve Rogers has been out of the ice for almost three years now, but he still hasn't quite found his purpose in the new century.Bucky Barnes is a war veteran who leads a support group for amputees, hoping that maybe through helping others he can begin to help himself.The two meet by chance at a bar, inexplicably drawn to one another, and they end up sleeping together that same night. But when an Avengers emergency forces Steve to rush out afterwards, Bucky assumes that's the last they'll ever see of each other.Except, in the weeks that follow, Bucky's omega urges start going haywire, and he realizes that night with Steve may have left him with more than just a fond memory.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **amethystkrystal says:** I'm so very excited to finally be able to share this fic. It has been such a labor of love. I've never written anything quite like this before, and it was so much fun to explore A/B/O and Shrunkyclunks for the first time.
> 
> I want to give an ENORMOUS thank you to my artist and beta NurseDarry. The handmade quilts she made for this fic are absolutely stunning and beyond her wonderful crafting, she's also been a fantastic beta and cheerleader. 
> 
> Thank you very much to everyone on Twitter and Discord for all your love and kind words when I shared snipsnops. And also a special shoutout to those of you who were willing to chat with me about your experiences with pregnancy and parenthood in order to help me with this fic.
> 
>    
>  **NurseDarry says:** Big kisses to amethystkrystal for the truly wonderful words and amazing world-building! And thanks to my WhatsApp posses for all the advice and laughs, and for being awake to listen at any time of day or night. Xx
> 
>    
> We'd both like to extend a huge thanks to Meg ([cryobuckys](https://twitter.com/cryobuckys)) who made the lovely banner for this fic and also to Leah ([PerfectlyImperfect42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerfectlyImperfect42)) who proofread the final draft.
> 
> And last but not least, thank you to the CapRBB mods who made all this possible. This fandom may be all about Captain America, but you guys are the real superheroes here!
> 
>    
>  _Chapters will be posted every other day starting May 26 until the final chapter is posted on June 11._

 

Steve took a sip of his whiskey and glanced around the bar. He'd ordered the expensive stuff, top-shelf. Alcohol didn't have any effect on him anymore, but that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate the taste of a good bourbon. What good was seventy years of back pay and an Avenger's salary if he couldn't treat himself to a nice drink now and then? 

Since coming out of the ice three years ago, he'd spent nearly all his time on SHIELD work. If he wasn't actively on a mission then he was either briefing or debriefing for one. On the rare days that Fury legitimately had nothing for him, he visited Peggy. Most of that time was usually spent idly sketching while Peggy napped, but he treasured it all the same. 

But tonight, though, he'd faced a conundrum. The mission debriefing had wrapped up earlier than usual, so that by the time he left the Triskelion, it was too late to visit Peggy but not late enough to justify going to bed. So he was left with a couple hours of dreaded spare time, and after wracking his brain for several minutes trying to remember how he used to kill time before, well,  _ everything _ , he remembered the hours he used to spend at the bar two blocks from his old tenement apartment. 

He'd never been particularly popular in his neighborhood — his runty appearance despite his alpha designation had cast him as a bit of an oddity — but the atmosphere at O'Malley's had always been friendly and whenever he went, it was one of the few times he felt like he really belonged.

So, here he was, trying to chase that same feeling. This place was a bit of a hole-in-the-wall, but he'd chosen it on purpose. He knew the fancy places wouldn't have the familiar, jovial atmosphere he sought. 

And also, nobody would expect to find Captain America sipping whiskey in a place that had a drink named "Adios Motherfucker!" as the night's special. 

All around him, people laughed and drank with easy, comfortable smiles. In one corner, a group of men were playing pool, their grins wide even as they traded insults. A few feet away from Steve, a woman seemed to be approaching the high score in pinball as a small crowd cheered her on. 

All kinds of scents mingled in the air as alphas, betas, and omegas talked and laughed and flirted with each other. A lot had changed since 1943, but the warm, freeing feeling of sitting in a local bar was exactly the same. Even as Steve sat alone, that easy joy still took root inside him.

He was nearly finished with his whiskey when a man sat down at the bar beside him, and Steve looked up from his drink in an instant because,  _ Oh God, his scent _ .

The man was an omega; Steve could tell that at once by the hint of sweetness that wafted from him. But beyond that, the aroma he gave off was like nothing Steve had ever encountered before. It was warm, smoky almost, like a summertime campfire, and it was absolutely intoxicating. And the omega's appearance certainly matched the attractiveness of his scent, with dark hair that fell to his shoulders and clear blue eyes. He had a thick, muscled build that some alphas might have found unattractive, but it only drove Steve even more wild.

He glanced at Steve, smirking a little, no doubt catching wind of Steve's obvious arousal. "Hey."

"Hi," Steve replied after the second it took for him to collect himself. He knew this happened to people sometimes, encountering someone whose scent was like a drug in how much it intoxicated them. But he never imagined it would be like  _ this _ . He could hardly form a coherent thought beyond  _ want want want. _

"What are you having?" The man nodded at Steve's nearly empty glass, his smirk now turned to a broad grin.

"Uh, whiskey. High West."

The man gave a low, impressed whistle, signaled the bartender, and ordered a round for the both of them before Steve could utter another word.

"I've never seen you here before. You just move to DC?" the man said. His voice was casual, but now that the initial shock of the man's scent had worn off and Steve could string more than two thoughts together, he noticed a spike of arousal in the air that  _ wasn't _ his.

"A couple years ago, actually," Steve replied. He felt a little more on solid ground now that he could see the attraction was mutual.

"Huh. Where were you living before?"

"New York," Steve said. It was technically true; he'd spent a few months in a SHIELD-issue apartment in the city before the Chitauri invasion had jarred him out of his post-defrost melancholic lull and into working for SHIELD full-time. The handsome stranger definitely didn't need to know his residence before that was somewhere under the Arctic ocean. The guy clearly didn’t recognize Steve as Captain America and he wanted to keep it that way. "I moved to DC for work."

The man huffed a little laugh. "You know what? Now that I'm looking for it, I can hear the New York accent."

"That bad, huh?"

The man smiled. "I like it."

Their drinks came then, and Steve couldn't help staring as the man took a long sip, his eyes widening a little as he took in the burning taste. He was so goddamned attractive, Steve couldn't stand it.

"Damn. You've got good taste," the man said, setting his glass down. "What's your name?"

"Steve." He probably should have come up with a fake, but he figured if the guy hadn’t recognized him by now he was never going to. "What's yours?"

"James, but everyone calls me by my nickname, Bucky."

"'Bucky,'" Steve repeated, disbelieving and teasing. 

Bucky's mouth just twitched with a smile and he took another sip of his drink. When he set the glass down again, he leaned in closer to Steve. The proximity magnified his scent, and the little self-composure Steve had regained was quickly draining away again. 

"Listen," Bucky said, in a low voice that was almost a whisper. "My apartment is just a couple blocks over. You wanna get out of here after you finish that drink?"

Steve picked up his glass, brought it to his lips, and drained it in one sip. 

 

They barely made it three steps inside Bucky's apartment before they were on each other. 

Steve couldn't even say who started it; it was like they moved at the exact same instant, leaning in to press their lips together, hands coming up to tug each other close. It didn't take long for them to part their lips for each other, tongues sliding in, desperate and exploring. If Steve thought Bucky's scent was overwhelming back at the bar, it was nothing compared to the headiness that filled the air as they kissed and groped with abandon. 

When they parted for air, Bucky gripped the front of Steve's shirt and pulled him backwards, moving down the hall into his bedroom. When they reached the foot of the bed, Bucky took a step back and pulled his long-sleeved sweater over his head. And that's when Steve noticed the arm. 

Bucky's entire left arm was made of sleek black metal, starting from where it looked to be grafted right into his shoulder and down to his fingertips. The prosthetic was amazingly lifelike; Steve knew that from the fact that he hadn't even noticed anything strange when Bucky's hands had been all over him, and even that aside, Steve could tell just by looking at the realistic-looking joints and digits and the fluid way they moved.

Bucky must have noticed Steve's staring because he gave a wry, slightly grimacing smile. "I was in Iraq. Got my arm blown off."

"Sorry to hear that," Steve said, completely sincere. One of the toughest things he'd had to grapple with since coming back was the fact that, just because his war ended, didn't mean others hadn't started.

Bucky waved a metal hand dismissively. "I was lucky, really. Got to be one of the first patients at the Wakandan outreach hospital."

Steve just nodded at that. He'd met T'Challa and his sister Shuri only a few times since Wakanda had offered its aid to the rest of the world in response to the Chitauri attack, but he had a lot of respect for the work they were doing, sacrificing their long-kept secret and sharing their knowledge and resources to make the world a better, safer place. 

Saying nothing else on the matter, Bucky pulled off his pants and boxers, and fell back onto the bed. Steve quickly followed suit, stripping off his own clothes and joining Bucky on the bed, leaning over him and kissing him feverishly. 

Bucky tilted his head up, baring his neck to Steve, and the smell of him — sweet and smoking and pure arousal — made Steve's head spin. He moved to kiss Bucky there too, sucking marks on his skin as Bucky made low, keening sounds. He could feel Bucky's cock against his stomach, on the smaller side like most omegas, but undoubtedly hard as Bucky arched up into Steve's touch. His own cock was hard and flushing red, and he could feel the maddening pleasure-pain of his knot beginning to swell. 

"Want you in me," Bucky panted, broken and needy as he rolled his hips in frantic, ungainly motions. "Please."

Bucky's desperate pleas for Steve inside him went straight to his most basal instincts. It was like his body was moving on its own accord as he gripped Bucky's hips hard and flipped him onto his belly in one fluid motion. It was a rough, possessive sort of move that was pure  _ alpha _ , and Steve normally liked to pride himself on having a good control over himself when it came to his more primal instincts. But right now, with Bucky so needy and pliant under him, he couldn't help the emergence of his rough side.

Bucky didn't seem to mind it at all. He let out a sharp gasp when Steve flipped him, and then as soon as he was on his belly, he canted his hips up and spread his knees apart.  _ Presenting.  _ The sight was downright obscene, slick glistening around his hole, running down his spread thighs. The scent was overwhelming, an intoxicating blend of omega arousal and Bucky's own irresistible musk.

Steve just barely had the presence of mind to ask, "Condom?"

Bucky glanced over his shoulder and shook his head. "Don't need one. I'm on birth control."

Well. All right then. The twenty-first century was a lonely, terrifying place, but it certainly wasn't without its perks. 

Steve braced both hands on Bucky's sides, holding him tight, and then slid inside him. He couldn't help the low, guttural sound that escaped his lips as he pressed in. Bucky was so perfectly warm and tight around him, engulfing his cock in smooth heat. Beneath him, he could hear Bucky's choked-off cries, the volume of which increased remarkably when Steve's burgeoning knot breached him. 

Steve let out a low " _ Fuuuuuck _ " when he was fully inside Bucky, and he only took a few seconds to relish the sensation of being fully sheathed before he pulled his hips back and drove into Bucky again. His pace turned furious almost at once, driving into Bucky again and again, seeking friction, chasing his pleasure.

Bucky let out a pleased whine at each thrust, rolling his own hips in time to meet each of Steve's movements. And Bucky's pleasure lit up something inside Steve, sparked up his alpha pride knowing he was making his omega feel good, and it only encouraged him even more, made him want to chase pleased sounds from Bucky's lips with the same drive that he chased his own pleasure.

"God, fuck, I'm gonna—" Bucky broke off with a gasp and Steve moved his hand to wrap around Bucky's cock, stroking him roughly as he spilled all over his belly and the sheets beneath them. 

"Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck _ ," Bucky's strained whines were hoarse, nearly inaudible, but the sound of Bucky so  _ wrecked  _ was enough to be Steve’s undoing, and he came inside Bucky in a sudden crescendo that made him cry out.

After taking a moment to catch his breath, he guided himself and Bucky to lie on their sides while they waited on his knot to go down. He wrapped his arms around Bucky's torso, drawing him in so his back was flush against Steve's chest. He could feel Bucky's heart thundering under his hands, could feel the rise and fall of his chest with each heavy breath. 

The scent of sated omega hung in the air, a soft tangy sort of smell that melded with Bucky's already perfect aroma. Steve tucked his head in the crook of Bucky's neck, desperate for it.

"Christ," Bucky said, voice raw and bruised. He huffed out a disbelieving laugh and tilted his head back, letting Steve scent him.

Steve's head swam. He felt like he was drunk, high off the heady smells that clouded them, the aftershock feelings of his release. He didn't speak for a long while, incapable of doing anything besides lying there and languishing in the feeling of his post-orgasmic haze and the sensation of a warm, sated omega in his arms. Bucky seemed content to go without speaking for a while as well, relaxing in Steve's embrace. They didn't even let go of each other when it was clear Steve's knot had gone down.

Their tranquility was broken by the sharp trill of Steve's cell phone.

"Dammit!" He could count on one hand the number of people who had his number, and none of them would be calling just to say hello.

With great reluctance, he pulled out of Bucky and moved off the bed to fish his phone out of his jeans’ pocket from where he'd discarded them on the floor.

**Natasha Romanoff: Stark's bots have gone rogue and are destroying the tower. Jet leaves in 30.**

Steve looked up at the ceiling, suppressing a groan. It must be bad if Iron Man couldn't handle it on his own. 

"Everything alright?"

Steve turned to see Bucky sitting up on the bed, naked and skin still flushed red from their recent exertion. He was looking warily at Steve.

Steve gave him a grimace and started hurrying to get dressed. "Work emergency. I'm sorry."

Bucky's mouth twisted into a slight frown, but he just shrugged and lay back down. "Guess I'll see you around then."

Steve barely heard Bucky's goodbye as he tugged his shirt on and crossed the room to the door, his movements fast and anxious. The post-sex daze was quickly dissipating in favor of pre-fight adrenaline. He paused before he opened the door and looked back at Bucky. "Uh, thanks, for… you know."

The humiliating awkwardness of it made Steve cringe internally, but Bucky cracked a tiny smile and snorted.

"Trust me, it was my pleasure."

And then Steve's phone made another insistent trill, and he threw Bucky one last apologetic look before he bolted out without another word.

***

Bucky woke the next morning with a dull, pleasant ache between his legs and the unmistakable scent of sex wafting from his sheets. He sat up gingerly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and slowly remembering the night before.

He didn't do that kind of thing often, fucking random alphas. But with the current state of his life, a long-term relationship was something he neither wanted nor needed, so sometimes it was just nice to walk the couple blocks to Medusa’s and take home an alpha who caught his attention. And, God, had Steve caught his attention. His scent had been sharp and wild and fresh like mountain air, and Bucky couldn't resist it. And his gorgeous blue eyes and brick shithouse build hadn't hurt either.

And then the sex had been out of this world. Maybe the best Bucky had ever had. Which was crazy because they didn't even  _ know  _ each other. But there was something between them, something Bucky couldn't name or describe, some kind of spark that had flared up in their mutual desire and zeal for getting each other off. 

Usually, in situations like last night, Bucky's only objective was his own pleasure, and same went for  his partner. But with Steve… they'd each wanted to get off, sure, but Bucky had found that he also wanted to chase  _ Steve's  _ pleasure too, wanted to make him feel good, wanted to watch him come apart. And, amazingly, Bucky could tell Steve had felt the same way. 

"Fuck," Bucky said quietly to himself, taking in the faded scent of Steve that still clung to the sheets. 

The buzz of arousal he got from the lingering scent carried on even as he got out of bed and headed to the bathroom to get ready for the day. When he stepped into the shower, he still hadn't shaken the phantom sensation of Steve driving into him, rough and determined even as he held him sure and steady in his arms, so it was practically without thinking that Bucky closed his eyes under the stream and took his cock in his hand and started stroking himself to the memories of last night. Steve's scent, so wonderfully suffocating when he'd reached the peak of his arousal. Steve's massive arms wrapped around his chest. Steve's cock inside him, huge and sliding in and out at a jolting pace that made him—

Bucky came right there in the shower with a gasping yelp. He stood trembling for a moment, hot water running over him, the evidence of his fantasizing dripping down the tiled wall. 

Jesus Christ. He needed to get a fucking grip.

But by the time he finished his shower and was dressed and on his way out the door, his shame had worn off enough for him to consider, with the faintest bit of hope, that maybe he'd cross paths with Steve again.

 

Bucky arrived at the VA just before the morning amputee support group he led was scheduled to start. When he walked by the front desk, Sam took one look at him and wrinkled his nose.

"Dude."

"What?" Bucky asked innocently.

"Even  _ I  _ can smell the 'well-fucked' coming off of you."

Sam may have lost his mate Riley a few years back, but he still experienced the dampened sense of smell that came with becoming part of a mated pair, unable to find anyone appealing or feel much sexual drive for anyone but his mate. A similar kind of scent dampening often happened with pregnant omegas or assault victims, basically anyone for whom intimacy with a non-mate would be a bad idea. If Sam could smell the pleased, post-sex pheromones on him, Bucky knew it must be strong.

Bucky grimaced. "Sorry. Met a guy last night."

Sam snorted. "Yeah, well, the whole city doesn't need to know." He pushed a stack of pamphlets across the desk toward Bucky, the usual newsletters and VA reminders they gave out every week. "Make sure everyone takes one. And remind people there's still slots open for the Captain America Exhibit trip coming up."

Bucky nodded and took the stack of papers, heading down the hall to the meeting room. It wasn't a large room, just enough space for a dozen or so chairs to be arranged in a circle with a table off to the side for donuts and coffee. Bucky set the pamphlets down on the table while he got the refreshments ready. 

The week's discussion topic — according to the brochure’s cover, which featured a photo of a smiling group of racially diverse amputees arm-in-arm on a soccer field — was about staying physically active after loss of limb. Bucky couldn't suppress his snort as he remembered what his own physical activity level had been like after losing his left arm, before the Wakandan outreach center had gotten in touch with him. He'd spent a lot of time cooped up in his apartment, alternating between lying in bed feeling sorry for himself or lying on his couch feeling sorry for himself. 

But… that was why he was here. Because he'd been there. He'd been in that inactive, hazy slump, and he'd gotten himself out of it. And he hadn't done it by just getting a prosthetic. He knew better than anyone that the depressive haze he was in had infinitely more to do with his mental state than it had to do with his physical disability. He'd clawed his way back to normalcy the good old-fashioned way: hard work, honest self-evaluation, and a counselor who wouldn't give up on him and wouldn't let him give up on himself.

He hoped now he could be to others what Sam Wilson had been to him.

***

The mission had been a mess. Grueling and awful and leaving Steve bone-tired by the end of it. Just when he'd thought they'd gotten all the rogue bots, another wave would appear apparently out of nowhere, and it would start all over again. Thankfully, Tony had possessed enough sense to call for an evac as soon as he noticed something was up, so there weren't any civilian casualties. Just a tremendous amount of property damage, most of which was contained to the Tower.

Steve wasn't too worried about that. Tony had the means to pay for it, and maybe it was just his agitation after fighting killer robots for ten hours straight, but he thought Tony might deserve it, a little. Some consequences here were probably warranted. 

Either way, Steve was immensely relieved when he finally made it back to his DC apartment and could strip out of his dirtied uniform and take a long, hot shower. When he stepped out of the bathroom some time later, reveling in the feeling of no longer being covered in burnt metal dustings and motor oil, he noticed the hall clock read quarter-past three in the afternoon. Just about the time he usually left to go visit Peggy.

He tried to see her as often as he could, but the past few days of missions, long debriefing meetings, and the accidental legion of Stark-bots had kept him busy. It would be good to see her, good to be in the presence of someone who was happy for the company of Steve Rogers rather than Captain America.

It wasn't until he was cruising through the city streets on his bike that Steve's thoughts wandered to the previous night. He'd nearly forgotten, amidst everything, but now he couldn't help the flush of arousal at the memory of Bucky moaning and shivering underneath him. 

He'd never done anything like that before. Before the serum, no omega had looked at him twice, his diminutive stature and fragile health being the opposite of what an alpha "should" be. Even after the serum, he may have looked the perfect alpha, but he still didn't know a damn thing about flirting, hardly making it beyond awkward fumbling with the few omegas he met on the USO tour. And then there had been Peggy, and he hadn't wanted anyone else after that.

Except Bucky had smelled like a dream, and beyond that, going home with him had felt  _ right _ . Something about Bucky's relaxed disposition and easy sense of humor had dispelled Steve's usual awkwardness when it came to that sort of thing. Bucky, so carefree and obvious in his desire, had made it easy for Steve to feel in touch with his more basal desires without having to overthink the situation. He hadn't needed to think at all when he was with Bucky; his instincts to claim and take care of his omega had been all he needed to rely on. 

He thought about it the entire drive to the nursing home, and it was only when he found himself turning into the familiar parking lot that he shook himself out of his fantasizing. 

When he got to Peggy's room and she greeted him with a tired smile, he knew right away what kind of day it was. It wasn't going to be one of those good days when she knew who he was and they chatted for hours about what Peggy had been up to in the last seventy years and what Steve had been doing with SHIELD. But neither was it going to be one of those bad days where she saw him and immediately panicked, thinking she was losing her mind and a nurse would have to sedate her. Today was somewhere in between. She recognized him, but he could tell by the exhausted look on her face that she wasn't up for much conversation. 

"How are you, Peg?" Steve noticed the flowers on the nightstand he'd brought last week were wilting a little and made a note to bring another bunch next time.

She gave him a wan smile but didn't say anything, her eyes sliding closed a second later. Steve just let out a soft sigh, reaching over to take her withered hand and giving it a gentle squeeze before he settled back in the chair by the bed and pulled out his sketchbook.

At some point in the evening, his mindless doodling turned into a detailed drawing of a gilded vibranium hand. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has a realization.

Bucky went back to Medusa’s a couple weeks after the night he met Steve and had to temper his disappointment when he glanced around the place and the gorgeous blond alpha was nowhere to be found. Stifling a sigh, he took his usual seat at the bar, and within the hour, a red-haired, slender alpha man sat down next to him and looked him up and down, grinning like he very much liked what he saw.

"Hey," the man said, and when he leaned in closer, Bucky could smell the spike of his arousal, and normally, that was the part where the sensual part of Bucky's brain lit up like a Christmas tree.

Except, this time, Bucky's body didn't react at all.

It made no sense. There was nothing repulsive about the guy's scent. It was just plain old alpha arousal, no underlying hints of aggression or predation. The aroma of an interested alpha usually never failed to pique his interest, but right now, he was completely indifferent. And it wasn't just the man sitting next to him. Now that he noticed it, _none_ of the alpha scents were having any effect on him. He might as well be smelling laundry detergent for all it did to his sex drive.

He was probably just tired; it had been a big paperwork day at the VA. Or maybe he was getting sick. It was the middle of January, after all. Regardless, he really had no urge to stay, so Bucky left some cash at the bar to settle his tab and walked out.

 

The next night Bucky had free was a Friday, and normally, he'd go to Medusa's, but when the clock ticked past nine and it got to the time when he'd usually be heading out, he found that he just… didn't want to. The idea of going to a bar to seek an alpha for the night completely lacked appeal.

But, that didn't mean he wanted to be alone. The urge for companionship prickled like an itch, a strange feeling. He didn't want mindless sex. He didn't want sex at all actually, now that he thought about it. He wanted someone familiar, a comfortable presence.

 _I'm losing my goddamn mind_ , Bucky thought to himself as he picked up his phone and sent off a text to Sam, inviting him over for pizza and a TV marathon.

 

The weeks passed and Bucky didn't go back to Medusa’s. The memory of his night with Steve faded into the back of his mind as time went by. It felt more and more like a distant, strange dream with each passing day, and soon he stopped thinking of it altogether, tucking it far back in his brain with the rest of his sexual conquests, only to be brought out on occasion when he needed material for fantasy.

In the meantime, he found himself craving _Sam's_ presence more and more. Sam was like family to him, and his alpha scent — even muted as it was — was a comfort. It made Bucky feel safe, _protected_. Which wasn't something Bucky had felt the need to seek out in a long time. But something inside him was rioting, and for whatever reason, Sam's safe and familiar presence was the only thing that soothed it.

The first few times Bucky had texted him to make spontaneous plans, Sam had just rolled with it. But during their fifth time ordering take-out and watching movies in hardly more than a week, Sam finally said something.

"Look man," he said, tearing open a huge carton of spare ribs and filling the room with a pungent, greasy-sweet smell that was so strong it made Bucky a little queasy. "Not that I don't love pigging-out and watching crappy movies with you, but I gotta ask, is everything alright with you?"

Bucky bit back his immediate impulse to say everything was fine. Sam would see through it, he knew. He let out a breath. "I don't know… I just feel… off?"

"Off?" Sam repeated.

Bucky shrugged. "Like, I don't really wanna go out anymore. Haven't felt like hooking up with anyone in weeks. I just wanna stay in, but I also don't want to be _alone_ , you know?"

"I guess that's where I come in," Sam said lightly, offering a tiny smile. That was what Bucky liked most about him, both as a counselor and a friend. Sam never made him feel weird about it whenever he opened up. Bucky felt like he could tell him anything, and he would always react in that easy-going way of his.

"Yeah. And I've been tired as hell lately too." A thought suddenly struck Bucky, terrifying. "Shit."

"What?"

"I feel like I did when I first got out." Bucky ran a nervous hand through his hair. He remembered those early days when he'd first gotten his discharge, and now that he thought of it, it was alarming how much of what he was feeling now matched up. The non-existent sex drive. The borderline pathetic urge for safety and comfort. The fatigue. _Fuck_. He'd been doing so well too.

"Hey." Sam squeezed his arm, firm and grounding. "Come on, you know recovery isn't linear. We all go through some rough patches. Doesn't mean all your progress is lost."

Bucky sighed. He _did_ know that. God knows how many times Sam had said it to him and how many times he'd said it to the people in his own support group. But that didn't lessen his terror at the prospect of falling back into that darkness.

"I'm here for you man. Whatever you need."

Bucky managed a smile. Sam was right. Recovery wasn't linear, and he was going to make it through whatever this was. "Thanks, Sam."

Sam clapped him on the shoulder. "Anytime. Now c'mon, these egg rolls aren't gonna eat themselves."

 

Despite his optimism that night with Sam, Bucky's strange mood didn't lift as the weeks went on. If anything, it got worse. His urge to hole up in his apartment was stronger than ever, and for the first time his adult life, he found himself taking honest-to-god _naps_ in the middle of the day. And to make matters worse, he'd started getting nauseous. All. The. Damn. Time.

He didn't even get a reprieve on his birthday. Bucky woke early that March morning to his stomach roiling, and he barely made it to the toilet to vomit. He stayed in the bathroom a while, cheek resting against the cool porcelain while he waited for the nausea spell to pass. Once it did, he stood and walked with shaking legs back to his bedroom. He checked his phone and saw he had a missed call from his mom.

Bucky cursed, though it was to be expected. Of course his mom would call on his birthday. Even with the distance between them — both physical and emotional — Winifred Barnes wouldn't miss an excuse to call.

Bucky picked up his phone, tapping the button to return the call. If he talked to her now, he figured, he wouldn't need to call her again for a while.

His mom picked up on the first ring, bright and cheery despite the early hour it would be where she was in Indiana. "Happy birthday, baby!"

"Thanks, Mom." Bucky tried to sound as happy as he could and not like he'd just spent ten minutes getting forcibly reacquainted with last night's dinner. He hated to worry her.

"How are things?"

"Good," Bucky answered automatically. "Work's good. Been hanging out with Sam." He'd long ago mastered the art of giving his parents exactly enough information to assuage their worries without having to actually give any details.

"Oh yes, I liked Sam." Bucky rolled his eyes. His mom said that every single time he mentioned Sam, despite the fact that she'd met him exactly once while Bucky was still at the VA hospital. "Are you doing anything special to celebrate your birthday?"

"Uh, yeah, we were gonna get dinner tonight," Bucky said, deliberately not mentioning that by "dinner", he meant Sam was probably gonna come over with take-out and keep him company while he curled up on the couch in a blanket burrito.

"How fun! Oh gosh, I can't believe this time twenty-eight years ago I was just starting to have contractions."

" _Mom!_ "

"I was so glad to get you out. You were the worst pregnancy, I swear. My feet got _huge_ , I was throwing up allllll the time, right up to the end..."

Bucky stopped paying attention as a thought, terrifying and ludicrous in equal measure, crossed his mind. He wasn't… There was no way he could be…

Almost as if on cue, he felt his stomach churn again.

"I've gotta get ready for work," Bucky said, interrupting his mom's monologue about how much easier her pregnancy with his sister had been. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Oh. Okay." Bucky hated the disappointment in her voice, but he couldn't dwell on it too much. The urge to vomit was rising by the second, and his heart was still racing from his brief panicked thought that he might be—

"Love you!" Bucky managed before tossing the phone aside and bolting back to the bathroom.

After a minute of dry-heaving, he felt better enough to collect his thoughts.

He couldn't be pregnant. He was on birth control and the last time he'd had sex was—

With Steve, who had knotted him without a condom.

Bucky wasn't a moron. He knew birth control didn't work one-hundred-percent. But the odds of it failing were so slim…

Yet here he was. He'd spent the past two months tired and vomiting and pathetically seeking the protective comfort of the alpha he was closest to. Either he was losing his sanity or he was having a goddamn baby.

Bucky let out a groan and sagged against the bathroom wall.

 

Two hours later, after he'd called in sick to work and walked four blocks to the closest drugstore, he stared down at the three pregnancy tests lined up on his bathroom counter. He'd just taken a fourth whose result hadn't shown up yet, but he had a pretty good idea it would match the others.

Positive. Every single one.

The evidence was staring at him right in the face, but he couldn't believe it. He was unmated — he didn't even know his (hypothetical) baby's father's last name. He only made just enough money to comfortably support himself. He'd only just gotten a grip on his mental health after coming back from the hell of war. He couldn't have a fucking _baby_.

Even in his denial, his hand still trembled as he called his doctor’s office to make an appointment. It felt like he was operating on autopilot as he spoke to the receptionist, like he'd floated completely out of his body, but somehow by the end of it, he managed to get an appointment for the very next day.

Perfect. They could tell him it was just some hormonal issue or stomach problem or literally any other explanation that _wasn't_ pregnancy.

 

Sam came by later that evening with Chinese, beer, and a small birthday cake. Bucky happily accepted the Chinese and cake, but he declined the beer without letting himself think too much about why. He didn't mention anything to Sam about his scare that morning.

He knew Sam probably noticed that he wasn't drinking and was more wound up than usual because Sam noticed _everything._ But he didn't say anything, just let Bucky take the last eggroll and refrained from his usual complaining about Bucky's taste in movies.

After Sam left, when Bucky went to bed, he lay awake for a few moments on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Without thinking, he brought his hand up to rest on his stomach. Then he caught himself, and with a grunt, he wrenched his traitorous hand away and turned decisively to sleep on his side.

 

The next morning, Bucky woke up nauseous, but thankfully, he didn't throw up and it had passed by the time he was dressed and making his way onto the subway to the VA hospital where his regular doctor had an office. He went through the usual motions as the nurse took his vitals and then she left him alone to wait for Dr. Bell. Bucky couldn't wait to get this over with, so he could just know what was wrong with him and get to treating it.

Dr. Bell came into the room a few minutes later, smiling kindly at him. She was a beta, like all the doctors at the VA hospital, and Bucky liked her best out of all the litany of medical professionals he'd seen since coming home. She didn't look imposing, barely more than five feet tall and slender, but she'd been a medic overseas before coming to the VA hospital where she worked exclusively in omega medicine.

"Hi Bucky. How are you feeling?"

"Like crap, honestly."

Dr. Bell chuckled and then said, "So I understand you've been feeling some nausea and fatigue lately, as well as a decreased sex drive. And you got a positive result on a home pregnancy test?"

 _Four home pregnancy tests_ , Bucky didn't say. "Yeah, I think something must be wrong with my hormone levels. Maybe you need to change my birth control dose?"

Dr. Bell's brow furrowed. "When was the last time you had sexual intercourse?"

"Uh, about two months ago." Bucky didn't like where this line of questioning was going.

"Well, before I do any other tests, I just want to do a quick ultrasound to confirm whether or not you are pregnant. Can you lie back for me?"

Bucky complied, settling in the reclining examination chair as Dr. Bell readied the ultrasound machine. Once he was comfortable, she had him lift his shirt so she could spread a cool gel over his lower belly. Then she started moving the ultrasound wand over his skin.

Bucky stared at the grainy image on the screen. He couldn't make any sense of it; it just looked like a bunch of greyscale, fuzzy blobs. But then Dr. Bell's movements slowed and turned deliberate, like she was closing in on something. And then she stopped all of a sudden, and Bucky found he could make out a distinct shape on the screen. Small and oblong, shaped kind of like a peanut, and it was… fluttering?

Bucky suddenly felt his throat close.

"Well. That is definitely a fetus. I would say about eight or nine weeks." Dr. Bell spoke in a tone that was pure professionalism, and Bucky might have been impressed if he wasn't too busy staving off the flood of emotions that were threatening to break through his current numbness.

"I— Is it—," Bucky felt like his brain had shut off completely and he couldn't say where his next words came from, full of concern he couldn't yet fathom. "Is it okay? Healthy?"

"Everything looks normal so far." She paused and looked at Bucky for a moment. Then she said, gently, "You don't have to make any decisions right now, of course. But if you’d like, we can talk about options."

It was an accident, a mistake. Something that wasn't supposed to be and was probably going to bring him a lot of hell in the foreseeable future. But it was _his_. His to love. His to care for.

Dr. Bell's expression had softened. "Do you want me to print you a picture?"

Bucky swallowed hard. "Yeah. Please."

 

When Bucky left Dr. Bell's office, somehow feeling both like he was floating and also like a massive weight had settled in his chest, his phone buzzed with a text message from his sister.

**Becca Barnes: Happy Birthday you little shit! 💩**

It occurred to him that he was going to have to tell his family about this, about the fact that he was having a _baby_. And the thought filled him with immediate dread. He could already picture his mom and Becca's pinched, worried looks, his father's unspoken but obvious disappointment in him getting knocked up by some random alpha. It would be like when he'd come home from Iraq all over again, too much attention on him, somethering and concerned and decidedly unhelpful.

He would tell them eventually, of course. It wasn't like he was going to be able to hide it. But not right now. He'd had enough emotional turmoil for the day.

He replied to Becca's text with three poop emojis and left it at that.

When he made it home, Bucky took out the pictures Dr. Bell had printed and laid them out on the counter. He stared at them for a long while. The surreality hadn't worn off even a little bit.

Very slowly, he raised his right hand, rested it over his lower belly, and let out a deep, shaky breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so very much to everyone who has left kudos and wonderful comments! It means so much to me that you're enjoying this fic so far <3
> 
> Chapter 3 will be posted on Thursday and will feature NurseDarry's wonderful art!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out, you can learn a lot by visiting a museum.

While he wasn't remotely ready to tell his family about the baby yet, Bucky knew he had to tell _somebody_ or he was going to lose his mind.

So, when lunchtime rolled around the day after the ultrasound, Bucky asked Sam if he wanted to join him in getting a sandwich from the cafe across the street. Sam said yes, no doubt still worried since Bucky had cancelled their plans the previous night and probably being able to read that he had something important he wanted to say.

There was no way to smoothly bring up the topic, so just as Sam was finishing the first bite of his ham-on-rye, Bucky let out a breath and said:

"So. I went to the doctors yesterday, and it turns out I'm pregnant."

Sam's eyes went wide and he sputtered, nearly choking on his sandwich. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, they did an ultrasound and everything."

"Who's the— I mean, how far along are you?"

Bucky sighed. "You remember a couple months ago when you called me out for smelling 'well-fucked'?"

"Yeah..." Sam said slowly. He was doing the thing Bucky recognized as his "This is crazy but I need to be calm for my friend" face.

"That guy. He's the father."

"So have you been seeing each other, or...?"

"I haven't seen him since that one night. When it happened." Bucky scrubbed at his face with his hand. This was the part he still hadn't quite figured out how to handle yet. He'd been so focused on the fact that there was _a fucking baby inside him_ that he hadn't really thought too much on how it had gotten there and the alpha responsible.

"Does he know?" Sam asked.

"No. I didn't get his number. All I know is that his name is Steve."

Sam was quite for a moment and then just gave a quiet, "Damn," which, yeah, pretty much summed it up.

"I could maybe see if he ever goes back to that bar, but… I don't even know if I _should_ go looking for him," Bucky said after a pause, voicing the vague thoughts he'd been turning over in his head. "I mean, sure, he was nice enough and an amazing fuck, but I don't really know anything about the guy. Getting him involved might just mean trouble."

Bucky had spent a long time building the life he currently had, and it might not be much but it was _his_ life, and the reason he had steered clear of a mate was because he very much wanted to keep it that way. He didn't want some alpha dominating everything, didn't want his omega instincts to spurr him into accepting that domination. And seeking out Steve, who had smelled like heaven and was the father of his baby, strayed dangerously close to that deeply unwanted trajectory.

"You're gonna raise this kid on your own then?"

Bucky's hand came up to touch his abdomen, and he smiled just the tiniest bit. Because he _could_ raise this baby on his own. Yeah, it was unexpected and scary as hell, but he had his own apartment and a steady job. He was stable. And every single one of his omega instincts were absolutely singing at the prospect of caring for a baby. He was made to do this. He could do this. And most importantly, now that it was real and happening, he _wanted_ to do this.

"Yeah," Bucky said in answer to Sam's question.

Sam let out a laugh, a little disbelieving but bright all the same. "Well, alright then. As long as I get to be Uncle Sam."

 

As the weeks passed, Bucky was surprised at how, despite the shocking news, his life went on almost as if nothing had changed.

His job at the VA was just the same as it always was, though there were little things that were different once he crossed the threshold of his first trimester and his pregnancy became obvious, both in the form of his slightly rounded belly and in his changed scent. Pregnant omegas generally gave off extremely calming pheromones, and such a thing actually proved helpful in Bucky's line of work. He'd like to think he normally gave off a generally relaxed vibe in his group sessions, but now that his body literally emitted calmness, there was an even stronger sense of peace and safety during each meeting. People who hardly ever opened up began sharing more. Those who tended toward anger and negativity seemed more soothed. Bucky was glad for it. It always felt good to be helpful.

He'd accepted his pregnancy with as much grace as he possibly could, but the part that would come after — the part where he was going to be a _father_ — hadn't quite sunk in yet. For now, he was able to go about life with little interruption, but he knew that wasn't going to last forever.

He still hadn't told his family. Telling them would mean worrying, and plans and gifts and visits and a million other things that would force him to actually confront the truth of his situation. He would tell them eventually. But, nearly two months after learning the news himself, Bucky still hadn't quite gotten there yet.

 

Bucky stared out the window of the crowded rental bus and wished, for the umpteenth time that day, that he'd pulled the morning sickness card. Truthfully, the nausea he'd experienced in the beginning had mostly faded, but still sometimes the occasional too-strong smell could turn his stomach. He could have made something up about having something for breakfast that didn't agree with him, and then he wouldn't have to be on this damn field trip.

Sponsored by the VA, he and Sam were taking a group of World War II vets to see the new Captain America exhibit at the Smithsonian, and normally, he'd be thrilled to go. The older vets were Bucky's favorite group —they were funny as hell and always had great stories — and though he'd heard enough about Captain American in high school history not to care much about that particular exhibit, the Air and Space Museum was his favorite of the Smithsonians.

So, it would have been a perfect day, except for how the further along he got, the stronger his protective instincts became. Crowds and strangers set off alarms in his head like they never used to before he got pregnant. The prospect of heading into an enclosed, heavily-touristy spot filled him with dread.

But still, he wanted to have a good time, and most importantly, he wanted the vets in his charge to have a good time. So, taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and kept close to Sam as they departed the bus and entered the museum.

It was easy to find where they needed to go: a massive mural of Captain America — in all his solemn, star-spangled glory — was the very first thing that greeted them upon entering the museum. Sam started walked toward the exhibit, with a dozen old veterans in tow, and Bucky sighed, following. The spaceship exhibitions would have to wait until later.

Once inside the exhibit, the group mostly spread out to do their own thing. Bucky turned to look at the first exhibit that caught his interest: a video montage of old footage of Captain America in action. He watched for a few minutes, surprised to find himself actually getting interested. Cap had some pretty impressive moves, flinging that shield around and taking down Nazis like something out of an action movie. And, also, the fact that he was tall and muscled with an ass that Bucky could appreciate even with the grainy quality didn't hurt either.

After one particularly badass action shot of Cap throwing his shield so that it ricocheted perfectly to nail three Nazis and land back in his hands (all while on a _motorcycle_ ), the footage cut to a shot of Cap sitting in the back of a truck with the Howling Commandos. He was smiling at them, laughing at something somebody must have said. His helmet was off and Bucky realized with an awful jolt that he recognized that handsome face, he knew those kind, piercing eyes.

That was Steve in that footage. One-night-stand Steve. Father of his baby Steve.

The clip of Captain America — _Steve_ — with his helmet off was only a few seconds long and then the footage cut back to a full-suit action shot, but Bucky knew what he'd seen. And, as he looked around him, the confirmation was all there. He was in a room filled floor to ceiling with photos and videos of Steve. The muscled body in that red, white, and blue uniform was the same one that had held him close and knotted him four months ago. That beautiful face was the same one that he'd kissed hungrily over and over.

All the pieces suddenly fell together as he stood there, heart racing, legs shaking. It all made sense. It had been big news that Captain America had gone to DC to work for SHIELD after the alien incident in New York. He'd left Bucky's apartment in haste for a "work emergency". And, god, it probably even explained why he'd gotten pregnant on birth control in the first place: his run-of-the-mill oral contraceptive was no match for super-soldier sperm.

That last thought was a little hysterical, so ridiculous that Bucky actually let out a deranged snort of laughter. The whole _thing_ was hysterical: he was pregnant with Captain America's baby.

His shocked humor at the situation was quickly becoming overpowered by sheer panic as the truth began to settle in that _he was having Captain America's baby_ . Should he try and get in contact with him? _How_ would he even get in contact with him? What if the press found out? Did this mean his baby had super-soldier DNA?

It became too much all of a sudden, the implications and possible outcomes too overwhelming. He felt dizzy, his stomach turning, and before he knew it, he found himself bolting out the door and hurling his breakfast into the nearest trash can.

After a minute of retching, he felt a gentle hand on his back and recognized the familiar, alpha scent that approached as Sam.

"You alright, man?"

"Yeah," Bucky rasped. "Still get sick sometimes." He couldn't tell Sam what he'd just learned. Not right now. Not when he'd barely processed it himself.

Sam gave him a sympathetic look. "You good to see the rest of the museum?"

"Actually… I think I might just take the train back and head home." He gave Sam a tried, apologetic smile. "I feel like crap."

"Alright man, but you owe me, leaving me to fend for myself with these old geezers."

Bucky let out a laugh and bade Sam a quick thank you and goodbye before he all but ran from the exhibition hall, needing to get the hell out of that room where everywhere he looked was a reminder of how much of a mess he'd gotten himself into.

 

He ended up going back to the museum the very next day.

Now that Bucky knew the identity of his baby's father, he couldn't help his curiosity. Captain America had always felt more like a character than a real person, like Paul Bunyan or Johnny Appleseed. But Steve… Steve had smelled like sunshine and fucked him earnestly and tenderly. Steve had held him close even after his knot had gone down and had been reluctant to leave even amidst what had surely been an Avengers emergency.

So, Bucky was curious, and when his Google search for "Steve Rogers" just redirected him to books and articles about Captain America, he decided to go back to the museum.

As advertised, most of the exhibit was in fact dedicated to "The Living Legend and Symbol of Justice" and the majority of the displays were old propaganda reels and ridiculous vintage comics (seriously, who thought it was a good idea to give Captain America a kid sidekick in World War II and call him _Buddy_?). But there was one part closer to the back that seemed promising, dedicated to Steve Rogers' early life.

Bucky spent a long while at that part of the exhibit. It was mostly a collection of items recovered from Steve's apartment after his "death": faded black-and-white photos of his parents, a rosary that his father had apparently taken from Ireland and had been on his person when he died in the Great War, and some letters and books.

There was one thing that especially caught his attention: a pair of hand stitched quilts. Both were patterned with red, white, and blue, one featuring the classic star-spangled design while the other had the same color scheme but was patterned with white and red flowers rather than stars and stripes. The skill and care that had gone into making them was obvious. Bucky peered at the accompanying placard, reading.

_Handmade by Sarah Rogers shortly after Steve was born, the red, white, and blue patterns in these quilts were no doubt a call to Steve's birthday: the 4th of July. Little did Sarah know what these colors and the values of freedom and justice they symbolize would come to mean for her son._

  


Bucky pictured it, the light-haired, slight woman in the photographs cradling her new baby, small and sickly and swaddled in red, white, and blue. And goddamn his pregnancy hormones because the tender image actually had his eyes stinging with tears threatening to fall.

He felt sudden, inexplicable yearning to hold the quilts, to steal them away and nest with them. He wanted to wrap _his_ baby in them.

It was ridiculous, but pregnant omegas _did_ usually like to build their nests with soft things from the baby's family. And those blankets had been made by Steve's mother, had been his when he was small. It was only _right_ Bucky's baby should have them now.

At least, that's what his instincts were telling him. Museum security would probably have a different opinion.

After that first visit, Bucky found himself going back to the museum again and again.

It had been too much, at first, when he'd realized Steve Rogers was the baby's father, but as the truth settled, and his panic at the situation dissipated enough to be overcome by his omega instincts to be close to the baby's father by any means necessary, he found himself drawn to the place. It made him feel… settled, surrounded by images of the strong alpha who'd gotten him pregnant, to be near reminders of the baby's family.

He wandered for a while each visit, hand over his belly the whole time, letting himself revel in the feeling of his instincts being satisfied by this quasi-nearness to Steve.

He spent a lot of time at the section about Steve's early life, thinking a lot about Sarah Rogers, of all things. It was strange but he felt a sort of kinship with her. She'd been a single parent too, and he knew all too well the dizzying mix of emotions that came with that: crippling fear and impossible joy all wrapped in one.  He imagined Sarah Rogers feeling just the same, widowed and expecting a baby in the middle of a war.

But with every odd stacked against her, Sarah had raised a _hero_. And maybe, just maybe, Bucky might not be so bad a parent himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all SO MUCH once again for the great response so far to this story! Your comments and kudos honestly mean the world!
> 
> Chapter 4 will be up on Saturday, featuring Steve's POV and a much-awaited reunion :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A much awaited reunion.

It was Peggy who convinced Steve to check out the Smithsonian exhibit. Though, if he was being honest, it was less that she'd convinced him and more that, after she'd mentioned it offhand during a visit that they used some footage of her speaking, Steve couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to see it. He struggled sometimes with finding the line between a healthy sense of nostalgia and wanting to cling to every piece of his past he could get his hands on. It was why he often avoided things like the Smithsonian exhibit; he knew he'd end up with an ache in his chest that he'd have no reprieve for.

But Peggy was involved in this one, and that was enough for him to at least scroll through the webpage on the Smithsonian site for it. And when he saw they advertised having photos of his ma and da, that was all it took, and the very next day, he made his way down to the National Mall.

He wore a ballcap and a loose-fitting sweatshirt. Natasha would probably roll her eyes at the disguise, but it was effective enough. Nobody gave him a second glance as he walked through the main entrance and into the main exhibit room, going right past a massive mural of his own likeness. 

He stood back a moment, taking it all in. It was mostly what he expected: red, white and blue regalia everywhere, photos and posters and newsreels of him in action. The only parts of those sections that caught his eye were footage of the Howling Commandos, the sight of them bringing a pang of wistful joy to his heart. 

Moving through the exhibit, he made his way toward the back where the projector room was, intending to see that footage of Peggy and hopefully find the promised photos of his parents.

He'd just caught sight of his old baby blankets when he noticed a scent so intense in its appeal it made him freeze. He recognized it instantly, and when he turned around, he found himself staring directly at the omega he'd slept with all those months ago. Bucky. 

Steve took in the sight of him, his body lighting up at once as he breathed in his intoxicating scent and looked him up and down. He was just as beautiful as the first time he saw him. Dark brown hair and blue eyes that made Steve want to break out his watercolors. A solid build that… was a little bigger than he remembered?

Suddenly, Steve realized Bucky's omega sweetness wasn't the only scent calling to him. He could smell  _ home _ , could smell  _ family _ . The kind of smell that told an alpha,  _ This is yours and you better protect it with everything you have _ .

And then it came together, all of a sudden, all at once. Why Bucky, looking a little heavier in the middle than he remembered, smelled like  _ family _ .

Oh  _ God _ .

It was right then that Bucky noticed him, his eyes meeting Steve's and widening in something of a mix between shock and panic. They both stood there for a second, neither of them moving, just standing with their eyes locked.

Steve recovered first, and walked toward Bucky. Now that he realized what it was, the scent of him was impossible to ignore. Every protective instinct in him was screaming.

"Bucky-" he started, though he had no idea what to even say.

"Not here," Bucky said. He glanced around, eyes darting between the crowd and the exhibit that was literally plastered with images of his face and then back to Steve. "We can talk outside."

Steve nodded and it felt like he was on autopilot as he followed Bucky out of the museum to a bench outside where they both sat. There was plenty of room, but Steve sat close anyway, his body doing so without him even thinking, gravitating toward Bucky.

Up close, Bucky's condition was obvious, the swell of his stomach showing even under his heavy sweater.

"You're pregnant," Steve stated, for lack of a better way to start the conversation.

Bucky let out a quiet, dry laugh. "Yeah."

"And it's mine."

Bucky nodded.

"I thought you were on birth control," Steve blurted and then immediately regretted the accusatory way it sounded.

"Yeah, well, turns out birth control wasn't designed with super-soldier sperm in mind." Bucky sighed. "Look, you have to know, when we slept together, I didn't know who you were, okay? This isn't some crazy stunt to get money or fame or—"

"Hey, hey, I never thought it was," Steve said, and it was the truth. Part of the reason he'd been so drawn to Bucky that first night they met was because he knew Bucky wanted  _ Steve _ not Captain America.

Bucky glanced away, sheepish. "Seriously, I wasn't even at the museum looking for you. I honestly didn't expect to see you ever again."

"You were never planning for me to know?" Horror rose up in Steve at the realization that, if he hadn't decided to come to the museum on this day and at this time, he would have, in all likelihood, gone on having no idea Bucky was having his baby.

"What the hell was I supposed to do? I never got your number. Did you expect me to just show up at the Triskelion and tell the receptionist, 'Hi, could I speak to Captain America please? I'm carrying his bastard child.'"

Steve said nothing because, well, even if Bucky didn't need to be so crass about it, he made a valid point.

"And even if I did find a way to talk to you," Bucky went on. "The press would find out and it would be a goddamn media circus."

Steve looked down, remembering Bucky's nervous glancing around at the crowd while they were in the museum. He was right. If the media found out that Captain America had gotten some random omega pregnant, the ensuing frenzy would never stop. The image of Bucky being hounded by paparazzi while he carried Steve's child filled him with instant rage, though he tamped it down immediately upon catching sight of Bucky's worried face.

"I'm sorry," Steve said, though he didn't know for what exactly. For filling the air with the scent of alpha anger. For making Bucky feel bad about how he'd chosen to handle the impossible situation of getting pregnant by a national icon. For getting Bucky pregnant in the first place.

"I'm not asking for anything from you," Bucky said. He looked right at Steve, his tone resolute despite the uncertainty his eyes betrayed. "I don't need any money. You don't have to be involved—"

"I want to be," Steve cut in because, god, did Bucky really think he was just gonna walk away from this, like it never happened? "Anything you need. I want to be involved."

Bucky looked surprised and a little dubious. "Really?"

"It's my baby too." Steve was surprised at how easily the words came, but the familial scent and the associated feelings of protectiveness and affection were impossible to ignore. "I know it's unexpected, and I gotta be honest, I have no idea where to go from here. But… I'm in this with you, okay?"

Several seconds passed before Bucky spoke again.

"Okay," he said at last. "I want you to be involved too. I want this kid to know their other dad. But… can we just be careful about it? For now? I don't think I'd be able to handle it if a paparazzi shot of me wearing paternity pants makes the cover of People Magazine."

Bucky's tone was light, but Steve understood what he was saying. They were barely navigating this uncharted territory as it was; the last thing they needed was the whole world watching it unfold.

"Of course," Steve said and Bucky relaxed minutely. They couldn't keep it a secret forever that Captain America was going to be father, but for now, they could enjoy the relative peace while it lasted.

They fell quiet and then, almost shyly, Bucky said, "Do you wanna see some ultrasound pictures?"

Steve's smile was immediate. "Yeah."

Bucky dug through his wallet and then handed Steve several black-and-white images that, at first glance, just looked like staticky blobs. 

"I got this one last week, at my sixteen-week appointment." Bucky tapped the first picture with his metal index finger. "There's the head right there."

Steve felt the air leave his lungs, and it was a long moment before he managed to ask, "Is it alright if I keep one?"

Bucky looked surprised by Steve's request for half-a-second and then he gave a tiny, genuine smile. "Sure."

Steve ended up choosing the one from the twelve-week ultrasound where the baby had what looked like one foot outstretched like they were mid-kick. When he tucked the photo in his pocket, he took out his notepad and a pen.

"Here," he said, scribbling down his phone number and handing the scrap of paper to Bucky. "You can call or text me anytime. Let me know whenever you have an appointment or if you need anything at all. I meant it when I said I'm in this with you."

"Thank you." Bucky grinned. "I know it's probably a national security risk giving me this number."

Steve laughed and then, hesitating a little, added, "And if you ever want to just...talk. You can use that number anytime too. We should probably get to know each other, you know, considering. I mean, hell, I don't even know your last name." Steve could feel his cheeks reddening, but he did mean it. He'd been attracted to Bucky right from the start of course — that's how they got into this situation in the first place — but now he realized he liked Bucky's company too. 

"It's Barnes," Bucky said. He gave Steve a soft smile. "And, yeah, I'd like to get to know you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky have been reunited! :D
> 
> Thank you all so so much again for all the kudos and sweet comments! Chapter 5 will be up Monday featuring our boys as they start to navigate this crazy situation.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky gets a surprise and decides to share his excitement.

A week passed since Bucky's accidental encounter with Steve at the museum and he still hadn't quite gotten over the shock of the whole thing. Just the fact that he'd seen Steve at all was more than he ever expected. It had felt… right. Being near Steve. It was mostly hormones, he knew, his body reacting with contentment and pleasure at the nearness of his baby's father. And then, the way he'd been so sincere and earnest about everything… Bucky had resigned himself weeks ago to being a single parent, to doing this on his own and not letting anyone make choices for him or his baby. But, after seeing Steve go wide-eyed with wonder as he looked at the ultrasound pictures, Bucky couldn't help warming up to the idea of having someone — having  _ Steve  _ — along for this crazy ride. 

Still, though, he was wary. Steve was a superhero, a celebrity, an American icon. His whole life was in the spotlight, and if he was going to be involved with the baby's life, that meant Bucky would inevitably be dragged into that same spotlight. They'd want pictures and interviews. They'd speculate and joke and hurl accusations at him.

He didn't  _ not  _ want Steve involved. It would be cruel to do that to Steve now that he knew, and besides that, his omega instincts would never give him peace about it. But that didn't mean he couldn't put off the inevitable onslaught as long as possible. Which was why he hadn't called or texted Steve once since they'd seen each other.

But that no-contact streak came to an end one Tuesday night after Bucky came home from the VA. The instant he walked through the door, he collapsed onto the couch and let out a groan. His back hurt. His feet were achy and swollen. He'd nearly cried three times that day during his support groups over veterans' stories that wouldn't have phased him four months ago. Pregnancy fucking  _ sucked _ .

He let out another fatigued groan and brought his flesh hand to rest over his stomach. He spent a long while just lying there, resting with his eyes closed. Several minutes passed and he'd nearly dozed off when he felt…  something, inside his lower belly. A flutter that lasted hardly more than a second, a tiny ripple of movement inside him.

"Holy  _ shit _ ." Bucky’s eyes flew open and he jolted up, clutching his stomach and looking down with sheer amazement.

He sat there, silent and still as a statue, waiting for it to happen again. And then, after a few minutes, there it was, that same strange fluttering inside him.

"Shit, you're really in there, huh?" Bucky said softly, looking down at his middle. 

Taking a deep breath, he picked up his phone and typed out a message to the number he'd acquired last week. After half a minute of hesitation, he hit send.

**I just felt the baby move for the first time**

While he waited for Steve's reply, Bucky kept still, leaning his back against the couch arm, hoping for more of that strange, amazing movement inside him. He had yet to stop smiling over it.

Several minutes later, his happy trance was broken by the incessant buzzing of his cell phone. Someone calling.  _ Steve  _ calling.

Bucky picked up. "Hello?"

"Hey!" Steve said, and Bucky could perfectly picture Steve's intense, earnest face on the other end. His tone was calmer and slightly apologetic when he said, "Sorry, I’d rather talk on the phone instead of text. Make all the old man jokes you want."

Bucky laughed, and fuck, just  _ hearing  _ Steve's voice was enough to light his omega brain up with happy contentment. 

"I'm not bothering you at work or anything, am I?" Steve asked. 

"Nah, I just got home."

"Oh, alright. Good." Steve paused and then, a little shy but sincere all the same, "So. You felt them moving?"

"Yeah. I was just lying on my couch and then it felt sort of like fluttering inside my stomach. Almost like there's a little butterfly in there. I know that sounds ridiculous. It's hard to describe."

"God." Steve let out a disbelieving laugh. "I can't believe this is really happening."

"You're telling me, pal."

There was a pause that went on for a few seconds, bordering on awkward, and then Steve asked, "So. How have you been?"

Feeling a little shy now that the main reason for establishing contact had been discussed, he went with his standard, "Good. Baby's healthy. Work's been alright."

As he said it, Bucky realized that was exactly the kind of deflecting he did when his mother asked about how he was. There was probably something he should unpack at some point.

Steve did that disbelieving laugh again. "Shit. I don't even know what you do for work."

"I'm at the VA. Me and this other guy Sam organize the support groups and most of the outreach stuff. The first time I realized who you were, we were on a sponsored trip taking World War II vets to your exhibit."

"I'm glad you have all that now," Steve said softly, sincere. "Back in my time… well, there were no support groups, that's for sure."

"Yeah. When I came home, I was… well, 'a mess' is putting it lightly," Bucky said quietly, surprised at how easy it was to talk about this with Steve. "I lost my arm in a blast that killed my whole unit. I had nightmares about it every night. Couldn't sleep. Hardly ate. Hardly left my apartment. But turns out the bomb that blew my arm off was made of stolen vibranium, so the Wakandans reached out. They helped a lot, with my prosthetic arm and everything else. And then the folks at the VA—" Bucky scrubbed at his face, wiping tears because  _ fuck pregnancy hormones _ . "I couldn't have got myself back without them. I just hope I can do the same for others who come through."

"War is hell," Steve said. "And sometimes it feels like coming home is the hardest part."

"Can't imagine what it must have been like for you. Waking up after all those years."

"The first few months didn't even feel real. Like I was stuck inside some kind of crazy dream. But after New York, it's been better. Being part of the Avengers. Working for SHIELD. I miss it sometimes, my old life, but having a sense of purpose now, it helps a lot." Steve paused and Bucky could practically hear his smile as he said his next words. "Guess this baby is part of that now too."

Bucky couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. Steve's honest sincerity in wanting to be there for this baby never failed to surprise him. "C'mon Rogers, don't go all sappy on me."

"Can't help it. Comes with being Captain America. That, and rousing speeches."

"Jesus," Bucky huffed. "So how have  _ you _ been lately? Fight any aliens this week?"

"Nah, just took down a terrorist cell."

"Oh  _ just  _ a terrorist cell, huh?"

Steve laughed. "I was actually on my way out to the debriefing when I got your text. I should probably go before the director has my ass."

"Well, don't let me keep you from your super-heroing," Bucky teased. 

"No, I— it was nice. Talking to you, I mean. And thanks for telling me about the baby moving." Steve sounded so awkward and uncertain — a far cry from The Star Spangled Man with a Plan — and goddamn if Bucky didn't find it absolutely endearing.

"Of course," Bucky said. "Bye, Steve."

"Bye, Bucky."

Bucky set his phone aside and lay back down on the couch, hand still resting on his belly. Talking to Steve had been… good. Better than good, actually. His whole body felt light and warm, and though he knew that was just his omega brain reveling in the fact that he was forging a connection with the alpha who fathered his baby, it was still nice.  _ Steve  _ was nice. And sincere. And funny when he wanted to be. 

And not bad on the eyes either.

Bucky shook himself. He liked Steve. But… there was a difference between what his pregnant omega instincts were telling him and what he really felt. It was a blurry line, sure, but it was there. 

He folded his hands over his belly. He hadn't felt any movements since before Steve called, but the nervous excitement that had rooted itself in his chest at those first flutters had yet to go away. The whole situation was a complete mess and the prospect of being a father was scary as hell but… all of that aside, this was an exciting thing, a  _ happy  _ thing. 

And he was done treating it otherwise.

Between feeling the baby move and talking to Steve, he was almost certainly riding some kind of happy-pregnant-omega-hormone-induced high, and that was probably a good proportion of the reason why he picked up his phone and called his mother.

She picked up on the second ring. "Hello?"

Bucky winced at the barely contained hopeful excitement in her voice. "Hey Mom."

"How are you, honey? Is everything okay?" Right. Of course she'd assume Bucky was only calling if something was wrong.

"I'm good," Bucky said. He took a breath. "Actually, there's something I wanted to tell you. You and Dad."

"Alright, he's right here, I'll put you on speaker." Her voice shook a little, no doubt jumping to the worst of conclusions. 

"Son?" came his dad's low, gruff voice a couple seconds later. 

"Hey Dad."

"What is it you wanted to tell us, honey?" His mom again, sounding more anxious with each passing second. Jesus.

Bucky couldn't think of any better way to broach the subject, so he just took a gathering breath and said, "I'm pregnant."

There was a dead silent pause and Bucky was starting to feel his excited joy from a few minutes ago fade away and be replaced with panic. 

The silence was broken by both his parents at once. In the same instant his father blurted, "Are you kidding me!?" his mother started on a series of questions, "Bucky, I don't— I don't understand. Are you seeing someone? When did this happen? How—"

"It was… unexpected." Bucky sighed. "The father and I, we're not together. But he's been supportive. And I'm eighteen weeks along."

And after that came the onslaught of questions. Mostly from his mother, though his dad did chime in occasionally, mostly to express his sheer bafflement at the situation. After twenty minutes of interrogation, his parents were now aware that he was having a baby with a man named Steve (he was still decidedly  _ not  _ ready to open the particularly volatile can of worms that was Steve's real identity) and that he was emphatically  _ fine _ . By the end of it, they'd calmed down enough to start acting a little like excited grandparents.

"God, I wish you had told us sooner," his mom admonished. "Now I'll have to rush to make a quilt for them before they're born."

"Jesus, Mom, you don't have to—"

"If it's a boy," his dad interrupted. "I think you should name him after your grandfather. Thomas has been a family name since..."

Bucky held his tongue, letting them go back and forth with each other about names and gifts and all kinds of other things Bucky didn't even remotely have the energy to think about right now. At least they'd stopped with the disbelieved panic. Overall, he was relieved; the conversation hadn't gone nearly as bad as he'd expected.

After they said their goodbyes — and Bucky promised his mother no less than seven times that he'd send her the ultrasound picture and call every week — Bucky decided that he should ride this positive mood as far as it would take him and called his sister Rebecca next. 

That conversation went about as well as the one with his parents. There was much less worrying but a lot more loving declarations of how much of a fucking idiot Bucky was. But by the end of their talk, Bucky had promised her she could be godmother, so all in all, it went well. His family knew and world hadn't ended over it.

It had been an eventful evening, to say the least, and he was just about to get ready to shower and go to bed when his phone lit up again. He groaned, dreading a follow-up text from his mother or sister. But it turned out to be Steve.

**Hey Bucky. Sorry for cutting our conversation short earlier. I wanted to ask, would you like to get dinner this week?**

Bucky couldn't help grinning like an idiot as he replied:  **Sure I’d love to**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the great response to Steve and Bucky's reunion last chapter!
> 
> Chapter 5 will be up Wednesday, featuring our favorite boys getting dinner together, and it's totally not at all a date ;)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner doesn't quite go as planned.

After the debriefing, Steve hung back in the hallway and sent off a text to Bucky, apologizing for having to cut their conversation short and asking him to dinner. He didn't really think about that last part before he sent it, and it was only after it was delivered that it occurred to him how much it sounded like he was asking Bucky out on a date. Which he wasn't. Or at least, he hadn't intended to. And that's where things got all jumbled up for Steve because Bucky was gorgeous and smelled like every happy memory Steve ever had. He was funny and easygoing and handling their situation with impossible patience and grace. And he was carrying Steve's baby, which sent all kinds of incessant possessive and protective signals to Steve's brain.

But the two of them already had enough on their plate trying to figure out how to bring up this baby together. The last thing Bucky needed was Steve's feelings mucking things up even more. Feelings that were impossible to sort between what was genuine and what was just his alpha brain going haywire. Though, he reasoned to himself, spending more time with Bucky would be the best way to figure it out, and when the reply to his text was an affirmative and they made plans for later that week, he couldn't help his smile.

"Someone's chipper."

Natasha had suddenly appeared beside him. Even with his enhanced senses, he always had a difficult time noticing her approach. She was quick and silent, and the Red Room had removed her scent glands entirely. In this particular instance, it also probably didn't help that Steve was… distracted.

He slid his phone back into his pocket and started walking down the hall. "Mission went well."

"No, you're..." Natasha wrinkled her nose. "Alpha happy."

"Alpha happy?"

"Like your omega did something good."

"I don't  _ have  _ an omega."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "This nose is Red Room-trained, Rogers. Doesn't lie."

Steve's immediate impulse was to just shake her off, tell her nothing. But… if there was anyone who could keep a secret, it was Natasha. And he could certainly use a little advice and perspective on the situation.

He stopped walking and turned around to face her, letting out a sigh. "It's a long story."

"I’ve got time."

"Can you keep a secret?"

She just grinned at him, devilish, as if to say  _ do you even know who you're talking to? _

So Steve told her. All of it. From the first moment he'd caught Bucky's perfectly intoxicating scent to the hopeful and awkward text he'd sent only minutes ago. Whatever else she was, Natasha was an excellent listener. Never interrupting or offering her own opinion, just letting Steve get through the whole unbelievable story.

"You're the only one I've told," Steve finished. "Bucky… he's worried about what'll happen if the press finds out. And to be honest, I can't blame him."

" _ When _ the press finds out," Natasha corrected. "It's not a matter of  _ if _ . If you're going to be in this baby's life, someone will spot you eventually."

Natasha was right, of course, but anger over it still sparked inside him, flaring in his chest. "We're hoping to keep it under wraps as long as we can."

"I can keep an eye on things for you. Monitor social media for any photos or mentions. If anything comes up, I can squash it before it gets any traction."

Steve felt a wash of gratitude, knowing that was Natasha expressing that she cared, her way of saying:  _ I've got your back with this _ . 

 

When Steve went to visit Peggy later, he knew right away she was having a good day. She was already sitting upright and smiling at him when he walked in, and he beamed right back, deciding right then that he was going to tell her about Bucky. The good days were becoming fewer and further between, and he didn't know when he'd get the chance again. 

She was a good listener, but unlike Natasha, she didn't hold back from making the occasional interjecting statement about Steve's idiocy. But it was fine because it was so  _ Peggy _ , and he'd take being called a "bloody fool" a thousand times in a row if it meant she was herself and knew Steve.

"I don't know what to do, Peg," he confessed, once the story was told and she was looking at him with a sort of fond pity and exasperated wonder. "I want to do the right thing for him, for the baby. But I don't know what that is. I want to be there for Bucky, I want to be a father, but with me around… they'll never get a normal life."

Peggy gave a pitying sigh and reached out, taking his hand in hers. "During World War II, I was on the front lines with Captain America and the Howling Commandos. In the Cold War after that, I ran espionage operations that would make Director Fury's toes curl. But do you know what the most terrifying moment in my life was?" She stared at Steve, serious and unflinching, and he shook his head. "It was when I found out I was expecting Michael, my first-born.  _ Nobody  _ knows what to do when they're about to become a parent, Steve. You aren't special just because you're Captain America."

Steve laughed. Peggy did always have a way of putting things into perspective.

She squeezed his hand, her expression going soft. "You're a good man, and no matter what vitriol the world is going to throw at you and your family because of who you are, I don't think that child could ask for a better father."

Tears stung in Steve's eyes. His throat felt too closed up to let any words out, so he just held Peggy's withered hand tight. He knew she understood how much he loved her and how grateful he was to have her. 

 

Five days later, Steve met Bucky for their not-date at a small Chinese restaurant. Steve had stumbled into it one night when it was the only place open after he'd finished with a particularly exhausting late-night emergency press conference on Capitol Hill. He came back frequently for their potstickers.

"So," Steve said, once they were settled at their table. Bucky looked good, wearing a navy long-sleeved shirt that brought out the blue in his eyes. It made Steve's heart skip a little. "How've you been?"

"Good," Bucky said, flashing Steve a smile and pouring himself a cup of tea from the kettle the waitress had set out for them. "I, uh, told my family about the baby."

"They didn't know?"

Bucky shook his head, grimacing. "After I got back — you know, after I got my arm blown off — it really shook them up, what rough shape I was in. So they worry about me, a lot. Guess I just didn't want them to worry about this too."

Steve nodded, understanding. He remembered the way he used to be with his own ma when he was sick, stifling coughs and pushing himself to school or work just so she wouldn't be burdened with worry. He missed her like hell, and not for the first time, he wondered what she would think of, well, everything. Probably be proud and worried both. That seemed to be her perpetual state when it came to Steve.

"How'd they take it?" he asked Bucky, shaking himself out of his thoughts.

"Not as terribly as I expected. Though my sister Becca called me a dumbass no less than six times. They still don’t know the part about how Captain America is the father. I’m not quite ready for that yet."

The waitress came to their table right then, already bearing a plate of potstickers for them to start, a testament to how often Steve frequented the place. She took their order — which, with Steve's super-soldier metabolism and Bucky's pregnancy cravings, turned out to be quite large — and then headed back into the kitchen. 

"I have no idea how my folks would react," Steve said quietly, continuing their conversation. "I never knew my dad; he died before I was born. And my ma… well, she'd tear me a new one about having a baby unmated, but I think in the end, she'd be excited for a grandchild."

"I saw their pictures, in the museum," Bucky said. He sounded oddly… strained?

"Yeah. That was the reason I showed up to the exhibit in the first place." Steve gave Bucky a concerned look, noticing his face had taken on a pale, unhealthy-looking pallor. He could smell something was wrong, could tell Bucky was distressed. "Are you alright?"

Bucky's lips were pressed into a thin, tight line. "I'll be right back," he muttered just before standing up suddenly and bolting toward the restroom.

Steve sat worrying for several minutes, and just when he was about to go check on him, Bucky returned to the table, looking marginally better but still a little pale.

"Fuck," Bucky said, his voice a little raspy and he looked at Steve with a grimace. "I thought the throwing up phase was over."

"Are you alright? Do you think there might be something wrong?" Worry filled Steve at once at the thought; the idea of Bucky and their baby in any kind of distress grated on his alpha instincts. 

Bucky shook his head. "No, it was those damn potstickers. The smell went right to my stomach. The whole place was making me a little nauseous with that greasy Chinese food smell but then when they were right in front of me..." He made a disgusted face. 

"Shit, I'm sorry. If I had known this place was making you sick, I wouldn't have even ordered." He should have been taking better care of Bucky. He should have been paying better attention to his omega, should have noticed his distress sooner.

Bucky just shrugged. "Not your fault. I'm just pissed because I really  _ was _ craving Chinese." He tapped his swollen belly. "Guess this one just can't make up their mind about it."

"Come on, let's get out of here," Steve said, leaving some cash on the table and placing a protective hand on the small of Bucky's back as they made their way outside.

"So, where to now?"

"I'm not really hungry anymore," Bucky said, and then, a little hesitant, "You were saying before how the only reason you bothered with the Smithsonian exhibit was because of your parents' pictures. Did you ever get to go back and see them?"

"No, I didn't actually." There had been a lot on his mind in the days after meeting Bucky at the Smithsonian, and old photos of his parents were not among them.

Bucky gave him a tiny smile. "It's not too far from here. We could go. If you want."

"You've already been though," Steve pointed out, though now that Bucky had brought it up and he had his parents on his mind from their conversation earlier, it did sound like a nice idea.

"Not with Captain America himself." Bucky gave him a playful nudge on the arm that warmed Steve head to toe.

So they went. They didn't spend too much time on the displays in the front — the actions reels, the propaganda — and instead made their way to the section in the back all about his early life. His eyes found the pictures of his parents at once. The portraits had been hung in his tenement apartment until Steve shipped out, and the sight of them now was so achingly familiar. He stood there for a long moment, just looking and remembering, a longing heaviness settling in his chest. And then Bucky's hand — the flesh one — reached out and grabbed his own.

Steve looked to him, surprised, but Bucky was facing straight ahead, gaze fixed on the exhibition.

"You know, after I figured out who you were, I kept coming back here. It was stupid, but it made my instincts happy, made me feel close to you. And I used to stand right in this spot and think about your mother and how she raised you on her own. You turned out to be a hero, and I thought, 'Well if Sarah Rogers did it alone and raised the guy who became Captain America, maybe this won't turn out so bad.'" He bought his other hand, the one that wasn't holding Steve's, to rest on his stomach.

"You aren't alone," Steve told him, pouring all his heart and sincerity into the words because whatever other feelings he was beginning to have, he was here for Bucky in this no matter what.

Bucky finally turned to look at him, smiling at little. "I know," he said. "But my point is, out of this whole exhibit, out of all the action videos and comics and memorabilia, the part that inspired me the most is right here." He was pointing straight ahead, at the exhibition they were standing right in front of. The section on his early life was the tiniest, most inauspicious display in the whole museum. But Bucky was right. Sarah Rogers raising a sickly little boy all by herself in the middle of the Great Depression was a thousand times more inspiring than any poster featuring his star-spangled likeness advertising war bonds.

Steve let out a shaky breath. "God I miss her."

Bucky gave his hand a gentle squeeze and pointed up toward where the pair of red, white, and blue quilts his mother had stitched for him as an infant were on display. "She did a beautiful job with those. Every time I came in here I thought about how nice they'd be for a nest and for the baby later."

The notion came to Steve immediately. Those blankets  _ should  _ be Bucky's to nest with, should be for their baby to be swaddled in. They had belonged to him — they  _ still  _ belonged to him, really — and it was only right they should be for Bucky and their baby now. 

"Wait right here," he told Bucky and before he knew what he was doing, he’d let go of Bucky's hand and started walking back toward the front lobby.

Twenty minutes later, after speaking through the ranks of employees until he got to the museum director herself, Steve returned to the Captain America exhibit followed by an extremely bemused staff member equipped with a set of keys.

Bucky's eyes went wide, looking between Steve and the staff member. "Uh, what's going on?"

"Just getting some stuff back that belongs to me," Steve said cheerfully, stepping back to watch as the museum employee used one of his keys to open the display case and very carefully removed both quilts from their display hooks. He handed them to Steve and then was gone. Steve immediately turned and held them out to Bucky.

Bucky just blinked at him in surprise. "Are you serious?"

"These were mine. And I want you and the baby to have them now."

Bucky made a motion to reach out and then stopped. He looked embarrassed. "Actually, I— Would you sleep with them for a little while? I want them to smell like you when I have them in my nest."

Steve felt his whole heart catch fire at that, warm and blazing with happiness and swelling pride. He clutched the quilts close to his chest. "Of course, Buck."

They left the museum after that, and Steve walked Bucky back to the subway station, even though it was out of the way from his walking route back to his apartment. 

"Thank you," Bucky said as they stood near the subway entrance. He jerked his head toward the bundle of blankets Steve still had clutched in his arms. "You didn't have to do that."

"I want you to have them," Steve said. "I think my ma would have wanted it too."

Bucky's expression went soft and then, a little hesitant, he moved toward Steve with his arms coming up and Steve met him at once for a hug. They gripped each other tight and it sent Steve's brain haywire, holding Bucky so close, breathing his scent in so near, feeling the swell of his stomach against his own abdomen.

When Bucky pulled away, he looked a little sheepish. "So," he said shyly. "I have my twenty-week appointment next week. Doctor said I might be able to find out what the sex is. Do you want to come?"

Steve smiled at him, big and bright. Between the blankets and the hug and now this invitation, Steve was practically ready to burst with happiness. 

"Yeah, Buck. Of course."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 7 will be up on Friday featuring the reveal of the baby's sex and the continuing development of Steve and Bucky's relationship. I'm going to be attending a conference this weekend, so Friday and Sunday's chapters may be up at unusual times, but rest assured, they will be up :)
> 
> Thank you all again for the kudos and delightful comments<3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky find out some exciting news and celebrate accordingly.

Having Steve at his appointment was… nice. Bucky hadn't realized how much of a difference it would make, having Steve and the protective alpha aura he gave off by his side during the examination. Ever since he'd gotten pregnant, he felt like he was always on edge, constantly wary of potential dangers to him and the baby. He knew it was just his omega instincts, but still, it sucked having that on top of his already-existing anxieties that came from his time as a soldier. 

Having Steve nearby melted all that away. Steve made him feel safe and secure, like nothing terrible could happen as long as he was at his side. And it had nothing to do with the fact that he was a super-soldier. It was all just  _ Steve _ .

Dr. Bell maintained her professionalism the whole appointment, telling Steve things he could do as the alpha father to help Bucky, and not once commenting on the strangeness of Steve's sudden appearance after months of absence. If she knew who Steve was, she didn't make any indication of it. (The same  _ could not  _ be said for the receptionist, who actually gaped when Bucky and Steve walked in, and who was blushing and flustered the whole time she checked Bucky in.)

Steve held Bucky’s hand the entire time. He squeezed Bucky's fingers tight once the ultrasound picture showed up, and then, when Dr. Bell told them it was a baby girl, he grinned at Bucky with the biggest and brightest smile he'd ever seen, the scent of his pride and happiness filling the room. The feeling was matched by Bucky's own joy; he was both excited by the news of the baby's gender and pleased to sense Steve's —  _ his alpha's — _ positive emotions. 

Except that Steve  _ wasn't _ his alpha. Not really. But his instincts didn't seem to know that. So Bucky didn't mind it at all when Steve still kept hold of his hand as they made their way out of the hospital building after the appointment.

"Hey I brought my ma's quilts with me. They’re in my car," Steve said once they were outside. "If you want, I can give you a ride to your apartment. That way you don't have to bring them on the Metro."

"Sure," Bucky said immediately. 

Steve's car was a sleek black sedan that was clearly brand new and outfitted with all the latest technology. It was spotless inside, like Steve hardly ever was in it.

"I usually just take my motorcycle whenever I go anywhere," Steve said as they turned out onto the street. "But I thought it might be too dangerous." He glanced sideways as Bucky, looking half-apologetic.

Bucky melted a little at Steve's protective worrying and then he imagined it: Steve astride his bike with Bucky holding tight around his waist. Fuck. Now  _ that  _ was something to think about. He smirked and told Steve. "After the baby's born, you can take me for a ride."

Steve's ears turned pink and the scent of arousal became apparent a second later. Bucky just turned and looked smugly out the window, knowing his own spike of interest was also obvious.

When they arrived at Bucky's apartment and went inside, Bucky realized with a jolt that the last time Steve had been over was the night they'd met. The night Steve had knotted him. He felt his face flush hot at the memory. He'd been so high on his and Steve's melding arousals that he’d barely remembered how they'd made it from the front door to his bed. 

Now though, Steve was looking around with interest, taking in Bucky's home. It wasn't much, but like any omega, Bucky took pride in his living space and in making it a comfortable home. And it made him happy to see that Steve seemed to approve.

"Come on," Bucky said. "We can put the quilts in my room."

Steve nodded, following Bucky with the canvas bag holding the quilts slung over his shoulder. Contentment and relief washed over Bucky the second he walked into his room. Since he'd gotten pregnant, he'd slowly but surely turned his bed into a nest, complete with stacks of pillows of all sizes and the softest blankets he could find.More so than ever, his bedroom had turned into a place of safety and solace. Usually, the idea of having anyone in the space would make his skin prickle — even when Sam was over, he kept the door closed — but Steve was different. When Steve came into his room it felt like something that had been missing finally slotted into place.

Steve opened up the canvas bag and held it out to Bucky. He appreciated the gesture of Steve acknowledging that it was Bucky's role to take out the quilts and place them just how he wanted in the nest. When Bucky pulled them from the bag, he realized there was something else inside, underneath the quilts. He took that out too and upon closer inspection, he realized it was a plain black sweater.

"I think you accidentally left some of your laundry in this bag."

Steve looked suddenly embarrassed. "Actually, I brought that for you. I read that it's really soothing for pregnant omegas to be around their alpha's scent, and since I can't always be around, I thought maybe you'd want to have one of my shirts."

Bucky was speechless, and he was suddenly overcome with emotion. All of a sudden, it was too much to contain. The joy they'd shared together at the doctor's appointment. The way it felt like Steve simply  _ belonged  _ in his nesting space. The gesture of giving Bucky the sweater that was so monumental in its simple kindness. 

Heart pounding, Bucky set the sweater and the quilts aside on the bed and then he brought his hands up to cup Steve's jaw and kissed him right on the lips.

Steve seemed shocked only for a moment before melding right into the kiss. He gripped Bucky by the hips, drawing them close together as his scent turned heady and excited. Bucky let out a soft sigh, parting his lips for Steve's tongue. When they drew away to catch their breath, Steve still held him close. 

"I, um, sorry," Bucky stammered, his senses finally catching up enough for him to realize kissing Steve out of nowhere didn't exactly fall in line with his plan for minimizing complications in his and Steve's situation. But  _ fuck _ it had felt nice touching Steve like that.

"It's okay," Steve said. He still hadn't let go of Bucky. "I wanted it too."

"I..." Bucky started and then trailed off. He was about to tell Steve that he wasn't sure if he could tell his true feelings from what was just his instincts screaming at him to be with the alpha who’d fathered his baby. But… that uncertainty really wasn't there anymore. He'd kissed Steve because it was  _ Steve _ , just being his usual thoughtful and earnest self. There'd been nothing else to it.

He wanted Steve. He wanted to kiss him and be wrapped up in his arms. He wanted to be on the receiving end of his kind, protective heart, and he wanted to be good to Steve right back.

Bucky leaned forward and kissed Steve again, this time with intent, all his affection bleeding into it. He wanted Steve to know how he felt, how much he adored him. Steve kissed back with equal fervor, and his hands fell to the back of Bucky's thighs, nudging his legs up to wrap around Steve's waist as he lifted him up. Bucky couldn't help the pleased gasp that escaped his lips at that display of strength.

Steve held him tight as he maneuvered them to the bed, and then set Bucky down on the mattress so carefully and gently it made his heart melt.

"Take your clothes off," Bucky whispered, pulling off his own as he settled back onto the pillows.

Steve complied at once, tugging off his clothes and flinging them onto the floor. When he looked back at Bucky, his mouth fell open a little, expression going soft and awed as though Bucky lying naked in front of him was the best thing he'd ever laid eyes on.

Bucky squirmed, suddenly self-conscious. "What?"

"You're gorgeous," Steve told him simply, like it was the most obvious truth in the world. He leaned over Bucky, sucking kisses down the column of his neck, making Bucky shiver because he could tell it was going to leave marks later. Then Steve brought his lips to Bucky's chest, mouthing at his nipples as Bucky whined and felt himself getting harder by the second at the attention. And then Steve moved lower, laying delicate kisses all over Bucky's swollen middle.

Bucky reached out, cupping Steve's jaw, making him pause. He tilted Steve's face up so they were looking at each other. "Will you knot me? Please."

Steve's eyes widened, already hazy and dark with lust. "Are you sure?"

Bucky nodded. Slick was already pooling between his legs, burning heat already forming in the pit of his stomach. He wanted Steve inside him. He  _ needed  _ Steve inside him.

Steve didn't waste any time, probably sensing Bucky's desperation. He surged forward, kissing Bucky deep and fiercely, and then moved to settle between his spread legs. Bucky could see Steve’s cock was flushed and hard, knot already starting to swell. Hands on Bucky's thighs, he slid inside, and when he started thrusting, his pace was almost painfully slow.

Bucky might have been endeared by Steve's efforts to be gentle with him given his condition. Except that he desperately wanted to be fucked.

"I'm not gonna break, Steve," he groaned. "Fucking  _ move _ ."

Steve let out an incredulous laugh but obeyed Bucky's demand, snapping his hips back and moving inside Bucky with more force. Even as his pace turned frantic, he always held Bucky steady, hands braced around his sides. 

Bucky was quickly reduced to a breathless mess. Steve felt so perfect inside him, his cock so thick that the tightness of it bordered on pleasure-pain, especially as his knot swelled and filled him.

He came without warning, shouting "Fuck, Steve!" as he spilled onto his belly and the sheets under him. Steve kept on fucking him through it, hands gripping him tightly as Bucky writhed at the combined sensation of the aftershocks of his orgasm and Steve's cock and knot still moving inside him.

Steve's movements became ungainly, losing rhythm and turning to frantic jerking as he came inside Bucky with a blunted grunt. Then he collapsed so that his whole body was draped over Bucky, the two of them knotted together. 

Holding each other like that, Bucky could both hear Steve's pleased alpha rumble and also feel the vibration of it against his own chest. He closed his eyes, still panting, taking in the scent of sex and contentment that enveloped them both. He shifted his head so that their faces were tucked against each other's necks. He was desperate for Steve's sated alpha musk, and he also wanted Steve to scent him right back and know how much pleasure he'd given Bucky. 

They didn't speak. Bucky wasn't sure there were words to describe how he felt as he lay there, tethered heart and body to Steve.

*

When Steve was sure his knot had deflated completely, he gently eased out of Bucky with a groan. Bucky whined but immediately acquiesced to Steve shifting them so that he was spooning Bucky from behind, Bucky’s back plastered to Steve's front while Steve splayed his hands over Bucky's belly. 

Steve kissed his shoulder and spoke for the first time since they'd both come. "Hi."

He couldn't see Bucky's face fully from that angle but Steve could tell from the pull of his jaw that he was grinning widely. "Hi."

"That was..."

"Yeah."

They were both still smiling, not even bothering to vocalize the warm happiness that was obvious in both their scents and the easy, lax way they lay together. 

The contented silence lasted another minute before Bucky half-turned to look at Steve and said, "We should talk."

Steve didn't hold back. "I like you, Bucky. A lot. I already promised to be there for you and the baby, but maybe it doesn't have to just be that."

He could have poured his whole heart out about how he was attracted to everything about Bucky — his face, his body, his whole easy personality. He could have gone on about how  _ right  _ it felt when they kissed, how having Bucky wrapped in his arms now felt like the most natural thing in the world. But he'd said the essence of it: he wanted to be with Bucky.

Bucky hadn’t moved, still looking at Steve but his expression had turned uncertain. "I feel the same way," he said slowly. "I just… If you and I… If we don't work out… This situation is already kind of a mess as it is; I don't want to make it any more complicated."

Steve stroked what he hoped was a comforting hand along Bucky's side, nodding. He understood Bucky's concerns, but still, he believed fully that what they had between them was at least worth a shot. He'd been out of the ice for over two years now, but meeting Bucky and experiencing the terrifying and exhilarating promise of being a father were among the few things that had made him feel  _ alive.  _ He met Bucky's eyes and told him, "We don't have to rush anything. We can just take this one step at a time. And I promise no matter what happens with us, I'll always be there for our daughter." 

After a second, Bucky's expression, though still uncertain, softened, and he relaxed into Steve's embrace.

"Okay," he said quietly. "One step at a time."

Steve kissed the corner of his mouth. "One step at a time."

They’d been settled back into their peaceful, post-sex quiet for less than a minute before Steve's phone sounded.

Steve groaned and Bucky deadpanned, "Is that thing programmed to go off every time we fuck?"

Throwing Bucky an apologetic look, Steve dug into his discarded jeans for his phone, and frowned when he read the caller ID: Tony Stark. That couldn't be good. He picked up and didn't even manage a "Hello" before Tony launched into speech.

"You know, Cap, I thought we were friends. I mean, we  _ did  _ take out an entire alien army together. I even bought you lunch after. And yet I didn't get so much as a  _ text  _ about your baby news. I mean, what is the point of having an Avengers group chat if—"

Tony was still prattling on, but Steve’s whole body had gone cold the second Tony had said the word "baby". "Tony, how do you know about the baby?"

"Oh  _ shit _ , there really is a baby?! I thought you were just out with some guy who liked cheeseburgers a little too much and the press was just making shit up."

_ The press?  _ Steve could feel the slow rise of panic. Beside him, Bucky — who could hear the whole conversation thanks to Tony's utter lack of volume control — had gone pale.

"Tony,  _ what the hell  _ is going on?"

To his credit, Tony dropped the humor in his voice when he explained, "Somebody got a photo of you holding hands with a pregnant omega. It's all over the Internet."

Steve looked to Bucky at once, a terrible feeling taking root in his chest. But Bucky wasn't looking at him. He had his phone out, tapping away at it with trembling fingers. After a few seconds, he held it up for Steve to see. There on the screen was a photo of them from just hours before, holding hands and walking out of the VA hospital, with the headline "CAPTAIN AMERICA'S SECRET LOVE CHILD?" in big bold letters above it.

Steve stared at the photo, fury and panic increasing by the second. He looked back to Bucky and his heart fell at the anguished look on his face.

"Tony, I have to go," Steve said and then hung up the phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8 will be up Sunday, in which Steve and Bucky deal with the fallout of their little secret not being much of a secret anymore.
> 
> Thank you all once again for the love you've shown this fic <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky figure out what to do next.

Steve reached out to grip Bucky's arm in reassurance. He could feel himself slipping into crisis mode and his first instinct was to make sure Bucky knew he was Steve's priority. 

Bucky didn't respond to Steve's touch, still scrolling through his phone with a pinched look on his face. Steve was about to open his mouth to say something — though he didn't know  _ what _ he could say to make things better at this point — when his phone went off again. He took one look at the caller ID and resignedly picked up.

"Well Cap, I guess congratulations are in order," came Nick Fury's dry voice.

"What do you want, Nick?" Steve's patience was growing thinner by the second.

"We need to talk about your… situation."

Steve stood up from the bed, now starting to pace in small, slow circles as he spoke. "I don't see how my personal life is SHIELD's concern."

"It becomes our concern when there's a civilian out there carrying the offspring of the world's only super-soldier."

Steve stilled and glanced over at Bucky, who continued to sit naked on the bed, looking at Steve worriedly. Fury's words were unsettling. Steve didn't like what they implied and he held back none of his disdain when he said, "I swear, if you lay a hand on him—"

"What the hell kind of organization do you think I run, Rogers?" Fury cut in sharply. "We're not interested in taking pregnant omegas against their will. However, there are parties out there that don't have such reservations, and we'd like to keep them off your tail."

Steve relaxed by a fraction. His protective instincts were going haywire at just the mention of someone coming after Bucky, but he willed himself to calm down. Fury could be a cagey, manipulative bastard, but he was on Steve's side here. "What did you have in mind?"

"He needs to be somewhere safe," Fury said. "We have private quarters at the Triskellion—"

"Where your whole team of eager scientists would have unlimited access? I don't think so."

"Romanoff warned me you'd object." Fury sounded faintly amused. "So here's another suggestion: bring him to your apartment. It's secure. I have agents already placed in the building, and I can put a few more in the area. Besides, I would pay good money to see anyone try to get past Captain America while he's protecting his omega."

Steve considered it. Fury had made some good points, and Steve knew he would feel better if Bucky were under his own protection. "How long would he have to stay?"

"Until the media sensation dies down and we can get a clearer picture of the potential danger. It would be best if he stayed with you at least until the baby is born."

Steve sighed. The idea of Bucky staying with him was appealing, for all kinds of reasons, some of which weren't necessarily related to better security. But not even an hour ago, they'd promised to take their new relationship one step at a time. This would be a pretty damn big step, and whether or not to take it wasn't Steve's call.

He turned around and met Bucky's eyes across the room. In his pacing, Steve had moved far enough from the bed that there was no way Bucky could have heard his conversation with Fury, but he was sure Bucky could read his nerves anyways. Steve offered him a tiny, half-smile.

"I'll ask him what he wants to do," Steve said to Fury.

"Let me know what you both decide," Fury replied and then ended the call.

Steve crossed the room back to Bucky, sitting down on the bed next to him. He briefly considered how absurd it was that they were still naked. The warm, saccharine scent of sex only hung faintly in the air, overtaken by the sour odors of Steve's anger and Bucky's anxiety.

"Who was that?" Bucky asked.

"Director of SHIELD."

"What did he want? What are you gonna ask me about?"

Steve sidled closer to Bucky on the bed and took his hand. "He's worried that people might come after you because our baby has my DNA. He thinks it would be best if you were somewhere secure, at least until the baby's born."

"So, what, are you bringing me into SHIELD now?" Bucky sounded so resigned and it made Steve's chest ache.

"No," Steve said firmly. "You're not gonna spend the next five months in some SHIELD bunker."

"Alright, so what's the alternative?"

"My apartment," Steve said. Bucky's eyebrows went up, but he said nothing so Steve went on, "It's in a secure location with agents already living in the building. And if you're with me—" Steve squeezed Bucky's hand. "I would never let anything to happen to you, Buck."

An indecipherable mess of emotions came over Bucky's face, none of them positive. Slowly, he pulled his hand away from Steve's and drew the blankets up around his chest. "So, you're saying I have to leave my apartment?"

Steve swallowed, a guilty lump forming in his throat as he realized how deeply upsetting the thought of moving out of his home would be to a nesting omega. "You don't  _ have to _ do anything. It would just make me feel a lot better knowing you were someplace safe."

"I'm not helpless," Bucky said, with a surprising amount of ferocity. "I was in the Army, you know. I can protect myself." 

"I'm not saying you're helpless. And I know it's a lot to ask to leave your apartment and your nest when you're about to have a baby. But just think about it, please?"

Bucky sagged back against the bed frame, looking drained. Steve felt for him, he really did. He was used to being a public figure and all the insanity it entailed. But up until about ten minutes ago, Bucky was just a regular guy. And now he'd been thrust forcefully and without warning into Steve's world of dangerous organizations and media sensationalism. It was a lot to handle, and unmated and five months pregnant, Bucky already had enough on his plate. All Steve wanted to do was hold him close and protect him from the worst of it.

"This is… a lot," Bucky said after a moment. "I need time to think. I need to call my family..." He let out an exhausted breath. "I think I need to be left alone right now."

"Bucky—"

"I'm not saying no to staying with you. I just… I need to think about it." God, he sounded so  _ tired _ . "Please, Steve."

The idea of leaving Bucky alone now pained him, going against his every protective instinct. But he wouldn't force his presence on Bucky, not when he so desperately needed space. 

"Okay."

Before he got off the bed, Steve leaned over and pressed a short, gentle kiss on the top of Bucky's head. "One step at a time."

"One step at a time," Bucky replied softly, and the expression on his face was almost a smile.

*

After Steve left, Bucky put his clothes back on, went out to the kitchen and made himself a sandwich piled high with an obscene amount of meat and cheese. He left his phone on silent in his room, resolutely ignoring the screen blaring with incessant notifications for missed calls and texts. He'd call his family and Sam soon. But first, he just needed a  _ minute _ . 

He considered Steve's proposal while he ate. It wasn't an unreasonable suggestion. Bucky had been considering the dangers of carrying Captain America's child since he'd first recognized Steve's image in the museum. He was all too familiar with the lengths terrorist groups would go to undermine American military force, and getting their hands on Captain America's DNA certainly fit the bill. But like he'd told Steve, he wasn't helpless. He was 220 pounds of solid muscle with a left arm that was basically a weapon all on its own. There was a pistol hidden in his bedroom and he'd been the best shot in his unit. 

He didn't want to leave his apartment. It was the space he'd carved out for himself, furnished and decorated just how he wanted it. He'd made a nest in his bedroom. He was going to turn the guest room into a nursery. He didn't want to move into another apartment where everything would be unfamiliar and belong to someone else. He didn't want to be someone's  _ guest  _ when he had his baby; he wanted to bring his daughter  _ home _ .

Of course, it wasn't just anyone's apartment he would be going to. It was  _ Steve's _ . And that was another issue entirely. They were supposed to be taking things slow, and Bucky moving in with him, even for the sake of security, would certainly complicate that. 

Steve would be good to him if he moved in, Bucky knew. He'd be sweet and gracious and do everything he could to make Bucky comfortable. There was a part of him that  _ did  _ want to move in with Steve, that craved the warmth and safety that came with being in his presence. That part of him that hoped maybe they could make that apartment a home for their daughter together.

Bucky sighed as he finished the last of his sandwich. Now out of excuses for avoiding his phone, he walked slowly back into his bedroom to call his mom.

She picked up on the first ring and had him on speakerphone, his dad and Becca sitting in the living room with her. The first minute of the call went exactly as Bucky suspected, consisting of mostly his mom going off about how upsetting it was to find out from Facebook that Captain America was the father of her grandchild. Bucky mostly just let her go on without much interruption; he knew once she got her initial berating out of the way they could actually talk for real.

Bucky could tell she'd mostly gotten it out of her system when she asked, in a no-longer-raised voice, "So are you two in a relationship now?"

_ Wish I knew the answer myself _ , Bucky thought. "It's… complicated."

"What the hell does that mean?" Becca chimed in.

"It means we're taking things slow."

His mom just gave a dissatisfied hum, and his dad just snorted and said, "I think you're about five months past 'slow'."

Bucky cracked a tiny smile at the remark because, yeah, he and Steve were doing things a little backwards. "Look, Steve's been good to me. And he's going to be good to the baby. That's all I care about right now." Bucky hesitated a moment before saying, "He actually asked me to stay with him for a little while, so I'd be safe from all the chaos with the media and everything." He decided  _ not  _ mention anything about people potentially coming after him for the baby's DNA. Sharing the fact the Steve offered to have him move into his apartment was already a lot.

"What did you say to him?" his mom asked.

"I told him I would think about it."

"Oh, Bucky..." His mom went quiet for a moment and then said, "You know, you could always come back home. If you really need to get away from it all."

That made Bucky pause. The idea of moving back to Indiana hadn't even crossed his mind. It did make a lot of sense. He could bring up the baby near family, and nobody was likely to bother him in his small Indiana hometown. But…

"I have a life here in DC," Bucky said. "I have my support groups, my doctors. And... Steve's here."

"Honey..."

"It's gonna be okay, Mom. Steve and I are good. The baby's healthy. That's all that matters. I don't care what BuzzFeed or CNN or whoever has to say." Bucky sounded more confident than he felt. It was easier said than done, dismissing the imminent public shitstorm. But the heart of what he said was true: he and Steve and the baby were all good, and as long as that stayed true, then everything would be alright.

"It's a girl, by the way," Bucky said, suddenly remembering the news he'd received only hours ago. "We found out at the doctor's today."

"Oh!" His mom's tone turned suddenly excited, and Bucky was grateful for the transition. "I'm still working on the quilt; I'll have to add a little something pink."

"Alright, Mom." Bucky laughed, glad that the fretting was over at least for the time being. "Look, I have to go. I'll call again soon, okay?"

After a chorus of goodbyes from his whole family, Bucky hung up the phone feeling the slightest bit lighter. His family knew just about everything now, and the world hadn't ended.

He called Sam next. Unlike his family, who had left about a hundred texts and missed calls and voicemails, Sam had just sent a single text message telling Bucky that he'd heard the news and to call when he could.

Honestly, Bucky didn't know what he'd done to deserve a friend like that.

When Sam picked up, all he said was, "Dude."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

"So, what, have you been secretly dating Captain America all this time or…?"

Bucky barked out a dry laugh. "God, no. I didn't even know who he was that first night. I only realized it was him that day we took the senior vets to the museum."

"Well you two looked real cozy, holding hands in that picture that's going around. When did that happen?"

Bucky told him everything, from their chance reunion at the museum right up to Steve's offer to let Bucky stay with him. It felt good, to put it all into words, to voice all his messy and conflicted feelings about it all.

At the end of it, Sam let out a low whistle and said, "Oh he's got it bad."

"Who, Steve?"

"Yeah, man. Giving you his mom's quilts, making sure you had a sweater with his scent, insisting you stay at his place… Whether he realizes it or not, he's been treating you like  _ his  _ omega to take care of and protect."

"Yeah, I picked up on that," Buck said. He also knew it wasn't just Steve treating Bucky like his omega. It was pretty evident Bucky had also been thinking of Steve as his alpha. 

"It's a powerful thing," Sam said. There was a slight sadness in his voice. "You know there wasn't a damn thing I wouldn't do to make Riley happy, to keep him safe. When you feel that way about an omega, it becomes the only thing that matters.  _ They  _ become the only thing that matters."

"Fuck," Bucky said softly. His heart ached for Sam, imagining what it must be like to be so devoted to someone who was no longer there. It was profound, what he was describing, and it was almost overwhelming to think about Steve feeling that way about him. Nobody had ever cared for him in that way before.

"Look," Sam said. "I'm not saying you should mate the guy tonight. But what you guys have between you… maybe it's not as scary as you think it is."

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, collapsing back against the bed frame. "I think I should talk to him."

"That's probably not a bad idea."

"I'll call you later. And… thanks. You're a good friend."

"I know I am." Bucky could hear the smile in Sam's voice. "Talk to you later."

"Bye, Sam."

After he hung up, Bucky lay in bed for a while. He thought about his conversation with his parents and what Sam had said. He thought about how he felt about Steve and how it seemed Steve felt about him. He thought about his daughter and the home he wanted to build for her, the life he wanted to give her.

When the sun had dipped low in the sky and early evening was upon him, Bucky called Steve.

 

Less than two hours later, a SHIELD agent arrived in a discrete black car to bring Bucky to Steve's apartment. In that time, Bucky had packed up the necessary items, mainly clothes and toiletries, figuring he could always come back for anything else he might need. He did strip all the linens from his bed and carefully pack them into a huge duffle bag. Even though he'd agreed to live with Steve, it was still distressing to leave his home and nest, and he knew he'd need all the familiar comforts he could get.

Steve was already waiting outside when the SHIELD agent pulled up to the apartment to drop Bucky off. He grabbed every one of Bucky's bags from the trunk and effortlessly carried them all inside in a single trip. 

"Show off," Bucky muttered.

The apartment itself was nice. A little smaller than Bucky's, but much newer and cleaner. The decor was very generic (Bucky would bet money Steve hadn't picked out a single piece of furniture himself and had just let SHIELD do everything), but if he looked closely enough, Bucky could see small pieces of Steve's personality in the art books stacked on the coffee table and the collection of actual records on a nearby shelf. And of course, Steve’s scent was everywhere, making Bucky feel warm and at peace the moment he stepped inside, despite the situation. 

Steve led him down the hall and gestured to one of the rooms. "I set up the guest bedroom for you. So you have a space of your own."

Bucky stepped inside. The room was pretty plain, containing just a bed and a dresser. It was a kind gesture; Bucky appreciated Steve knowing that he'd want a space to rebuild his nest. But though it still smelled faintly like Steve, Bucky could tell the room had been unused, and the prospect of spending his first night away from his nest in this stale-smelling space was discomforting.

"Actually," Bucky began. He hesitated, and then remembered Sam's words from earlier.  _ When you feel that way about an omega, it becomes the only thing that matters _ . He turned to face Steve. "Would it be alright if I stayed with you?"

Steve's whole face lit up, his scent turning proud and happy. "Yeah, Buck. Of course."

 

That night before they went to bed Steve brought Bucky's duffle bag of linens into his bedroom and helped him arrange everything to his liking, piling the mattress with blankets and pillows. When he was satisfied, Bucky lay down on the bed and curled around Sarah Rogers' quilts. The whole room smelled like Steve, but with everything he'd brought from home, the bed now carried the familiar scent of his old nest, and the combination made him feel at ease.

Steve settled in behind him, his warm, solid chest pressed against his back. He draped a hand over Bucky's side to rest against his middle. Pressing a light kiss to the back of Bucky's neck, he murmured, "I'm glad you're here."

Bucky placed his own hand over Steve's, settling into his embrace. "Me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The epilogue will be up this Tuesday and will feature a very special final quilt made by NurseDarry.
> 
> Thank you all so much again for all the love! I can't believe there's only one more update until the fic is complete!


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new family starts taking some steps together.

As the months passed, Steve began to think that living with Bucky may have been the happiest time of his life. Certainly it was the happiest he'd been since coming out of the ice. After years of being a place filled with daunting, lonely silence, his apartment finally felt like a home. Steve was overjoyed when Bucky had started making their shared space just a little bit his own, buying new blankets and cushions for the living room and stocking the kitchen with all his favorite foods. One evening, Steve came back from the Triskelion to see Bucky had stuck one of the newest ultrasound pictures onto the refrigerator, and he couldn't stop smiling the rest of the night.  

They settled quickly into simple, comfortable domesticity. During the day, they both had their respective jobs, but they always spent the evenings together, usually ending up in the living room, either watching something on television together or sometimes doing their own separate activities, Steve drawing while Bucky read. 

On one such evening, nearly three months after Bucky moved in, Steve decided to put on some music while he sketched. As soon as Steve put the record on and the sound of Tommy Dorsey's big band began to play, Bucky let out a laugh from where he was lying on the couch. 

"God, you and your old man music."

Steve just grinned. "Don't act like I haven't caught you singing Cab Calloway in the shower."

Bucky sat up slowly — no longer an easy feat at nearly eight months along — and held his belly. "You know, she kicks like crazy whenever you put on jazz."

"Seriously?"

"Swear to God."

Steve crossed the room and sat down next to Bucky, placing both hands on his middle. As much as Bucky complained about their little dancer, Steve still had yet to feel any movements from the outside. Bucky took his hands and shifted them over to a spot on his lower left side, pressing Steve's fingers gently against his skin.

"You feel that?"

A couple second of stillness passed. Steve shook his head "No, I—" 

He paused. Just for an instant, he swore there might have been… He waited for a tense second and then—

"Oh my god," he gasped when he felt an unmistakable  _ thump _ against his fingers. 

Bucky was smiling at him. "Crazy, right?"

All Steve could do was smile back like an idiot, his hands still on Bucky's middle, hoping to feel their daughter again. From the record player, Tommy Dorsey crooned:

_ Marie, the dawn is breaking _

_ Marie, oooh Marie, you'll soon be waking _

An idea struck Steve suddenly, and maybe he was just too deep in happiness to recognize that it was silly, but he blurted it out anyways, "How about that for a name?"

Bucky blinked at him, confused. "What?"

"What if we named her Marie? From the song."

"Are you serious?" Bucky laughed and then realizing Steve was in fact serious, he quieted, his expression turning thoughtful. A moment passed and then he said, "I like it, actually."

"Really?"

"Yeah, you big sap."

Steve took Bucky's face in his hands and kissed him long and deep. 

 

As Bucky approached the end of his pregnancy, Steve felt like he was going out of his mind as his alpha urges started going haywire. It physically pained him to be separated from Bucky, a feeling of dread and panic coming over him whenever he left in the morning for the Triskelion. A week before Bucky's due date, he ended up telling Fury that he was starting his paternity leave right then because he couldn't handle being apart from Bucky when he could go into labor any secord.

And it wasn't just Steve; Bucky's omega instincts in the final few weeks of his pregnancy had also reached new heights. He no longer went to work, instead spending most of his time curled up in his nest, either bundled in blankets or preferably, wrapped up in Steve's arms. Steve was perfectly fine with Bucky's growing neediness; it matched his own desires to be close to him at all times while they counted down the days until their daughter arrived.

Six days after Bucky's due date, Steve woke up and knew immediately something was different. He couldn't place it exactly, but there was  _ something  _ to Bucky's scent that made him sure.

He shifted over, pulled Bucky close against him, and told him happily, "You're going to have her today."

Bucky grumbled at Steve disturbing his rest. "You don't know that."

Steve kissed the top of his head, excitement growing because he was  _ sure _ . "I'm telling you, it's happening."

Bucky just huffed and settled back down on the pillow. 

An hour later, Steve noticed the scent of an omega in pain just a second before Bucky let out a long whine. Bucky sat up, clutching his belly and glaring down at Steve.

"I hate when you're right."

 

Marie Sarah Barnes-Rogers came into the world red-faced and squalling, and Steve fell immediately in love.

The nurses handed her to him while Bucky was tended to, and he held her close to his chest, tears blurring his vision as he stared at her perfect, delicate features. Her cries quieted and she wriggled against his chest, seeking warmth and closeness. Even at just a few minutes old, newborns could recognize their parents’ scents, and Steve felt his chest flare with pride when Marie curled her body close to him.

Steve brought her over to Bucky. He looked like hell, skin flushed and sweaty, his long hair damp and tangled. But, despite the exhaustion in them, his eyes were bright with nervous excitement and total awe as he stared at Marie. He held out his arms, and Steve set her down gently into Bucky's hold. She fussed a little at the transition, but as soon as Bucky adjusted his grip, she settled down.

"Hi," Bucky whispered to her. When he brought one of his vibranium fingers to brush gently at her cheek, she reached out and took it in her tiny grasp. Bucky beamed down at her, and as Steve watched them, his whole heart felt somehow full and light at the same time.

The words were out of Steve's mouth before he could think about them, before he could stop them. 

“I love you.”

Bucky looked up, startled. And then he smiled, big and bright, all his tiredness seemingly forgotten just for a second.

"I love you, too."

*

**Three months later**

The nursing home staff apparently went all out for the holidays; the walls were lined with wreaths and red, green, and gold ribbons and tinsel. An enormous Christmas tree stood beside the reception desk, adorned with an array of glittering, brightly colored ornaments. When they walked passed it on the way to Peggy's room, Bucky felt Marie twist around in his arms to keep staring at the decorations as they moved down the hall, her attention so rapt it made Bucky laugh.

"Somebody likes Christmas," Bucky remarked to Steve, who was leading the way down the hall.

Steve glanced back and chuckled when he saw Marie still turned around, fixated on the tree. In her wriggling, she'd made a mess out of the blanket Bucky had wrapped her in. It was the one his mother had stitched, made of soft fabric patterned in the same black and gold design as his vibranium arm with a sparkling pink star sewn in the center. Steve caught Bucky's eye and they shared a smile before he turned back around and led them a couple feet down the hall to one of the doors. 

Peggy beamed at them as they walked in, and Bucky let out a breath of relief. He'd come to visit with Steve a few times before, and he was glad this time would be a good day. Especially since it was the first time she'd be meeting the baby.

"Merry Christmas, Peg," Steve said, setting an elaborate arrangement of poinsettias on her bedside table.

Peggy's attention, however, was elsewhere as her gaze fell on Marie. "Oh there she is. Let me see her."

Bucky crossed the room and sat down at the edge of the bed, holding Marie out so Peggy could get a look. Peggy smiled down at her, holding out her fingers for Marie to grasp.

"She's gorgeous," she said after a moment, turning to look at Steve with a soft smile. Steve smiled back, though there was a bit of melancholy to it. Bucky wasn't jealous of Peggy, but it still made him feel strange sometimes, thinking about the life Steve could have had with her. His heart ached a little for both of them. But still, he knew they were both happy, now. Countless photos of family and friends lined Peggy's bedside table and dresser. And Bucky knew that Steve loved him and Marie more than anything in the world.

"Do you want to hold her?" Bucky said.

Peggy nodded and Bucky carefully set Marie down in Peggy's arms. He made sure to sit close by, worried about Peggy's diminished strength, but her hold on the baby was solid and having Marie in her arms seemed to spark some energy in her.

"Hello darling," she cooed, rocking Marie a little as she started to fuss at being held by someone other than her dads. Peggy tapped at Marie's dimpled chin and grinned up at Bucky. "She's got your chin."

Bucky laughed. "Yeah. I think she got Steve's everything else, though."

Peggy snorted, still looking down at Marie with soft eyes. "Do you two have any plans for the holiday?"

"Stark's having a big Christmas Eve party at the Tower," Steve said. "We're heading over on the jet with Natasha after we leave here. And then Bucky's family is flying in from Indiana tomorrow."

Bucky was oddly excited for his family to come for Christmas. The last time he'd seen them was when they'd come to visit immediately after Marie had been born, and their relationship had only gotten better since. Meeting Steve and seeing for themselves that Bucky was building a good life for himself in DC seemed to have calmed a lot of his parents' worries, and they could actually go a whole phone conversation without them sounding concerned for him. And on Bucky's end, now that he had his own child, he understood his parents worries a bit more, having experienced for himself the place of deep, unconditional love it came from.

They fell into a easy silence. Peggy still playing with Marie as Bucky and Steve watched on. Occasionally, they would glance at each other, and when their eyes met, they'd share a smile, like they were sharing a private joke, even though nothing particularly funny had happened. 

After a moment, Peggy looked up from Marie and turned to Steve, her eyes soft. "I'm glad you found yourself a life."

Steve reached out and took Bucky’s hand. "Me too."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we are DONE.
> 
> I don't think I can even put into words how much all your kudos and kind and supportive comments has meant to me. I am overwhelmed by all the positive feedback this fic has received. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
> 
> And a final thank you once again to NurseDarry for your beautiful quilting, amazing beta work, and just all around being such a great source of enthusiasm and support!

**Author's Note:**

> Say hello to us on Twitter!  
> [amethystkrystal](https://twitter.com/amethystk219)  
> [NurseDarry](https://twitter.com/DarryWillis)


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